


Fate Stay Mama!

by Exstarsis



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night (Visual Novel), Fate/stay night - All Media Types, 通常攻击是全体攻击兼二次攻击的妈妈你喜欢吗? | Do You Love Your Mom And Her Two-Hit Multi-Target Attacks? (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Plot, And all the normal tags, Crack Crossover, Expect the whole FSN gang really, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Found Family, Mama makes it fluffier, Taiga! Taiga! Taiga!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2020-12-22 13:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21077846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exstarsis/pseuds/Exstarsis
Summary: “Ah? A Grail War? Sounds scary! But... so many lonely children! No. No! A mama can’t let this go by! A mama cares for all kids, whether hers or not!”Look out, Fuyuki. There’s a new Mama in town.(You don't need to know anything about Mamako to read this. After all, the characters meeting her don't.)





	1. Day 1 - Shirou

Shirou had just sat down to a wonderful Japanese-style breakfast of chicken salad, cooked salmon, miso soup and fresh yam soup with Sakura and Taiga when the bell at the front door rang.

Sakura put down her chopsticks and hopped to her feet. “Please keep eating, Senpai. I’ll see who it is.”

“No, it’s my house, and you made the breakfast.” Years of track made it a given that Shirou was faster than Sakura, so he got out of the room first. Opening the door, he saw a woman with wavy brown hair, dressed in a pretty white and blue dress. She looked to be around the age his father would have been, wore a sweet smile, and held a casserole dish in mitted hands.

“Hello!” she said cheerily, her purple eyes shining. “I hope I’m not interrupting your breakfast! I’m new in the neighborhood and I wanted to introduce myself!” She inspected Shirou and her smile softened. “Is your mama or papa home?”

Inwardly, Shirou grimaced. An awkward question, but that was the reason Taiga claimed she ate her breakfast and dinner here every day. He glanced at the casserole dish, which contained some Western bread-based dish. The sweet smell crept into his nose. The scent of baked goods always made him think of Sakura, who specialized in Western foods. He knew instantly that she would love it, and took a step backward invitingly.

“Welcome to Miyama! I don’t have parents, but my guardian’s here.” He realized as the words came out of his mouth that it was a uncomfortable topic, and before her smile could turn into a frown, he followed up quickly. “Would you like to come in for a few moments?”

“Thank you!” said the woman with another sweet smile. Hoping his ‘guardian’ wouldn’t freak out, Shirou led her to the dining room. Taiga lowered her newspaper and regarded the woman with suspicion while Sakura concentrated shyly on her food.

“Hey, everybody. This is… uh…” He glanced at the woman inquiringly. How had he managed to invite her in without even learning her name? His father would have scolded him. But there was just something so friendly and comfortable about the woman.

“Mamako Oosuki!” chirped the woman, and stepped forward to set the casserole dish down on the table before looking over the other dishes arrayed. “And I _am_ interrupting your breakfast. I’m so sorry!”

“Oosuki-san is new to the neighborhood and came over to introduce herself. Um, that’s Taiga, and that’s Sakura, and I’m Shirou Emiya.”

The gift of food did everything required to erase Taiga’s suspicion. It really did smell delicious, and Taiga didn’t hesitate to extract a sweet roll and stuff it in her cheeks.

“As you see, what you brought can only improve the meal,” Shirou said, and too late noticed Sakura’s blush. _Ooops._ Too late to fix things now. He’d have to make it up to Sakura later.

Surprisingly, Mamako must have noticed the blush too, and scooped the casserole back up again. “No, what you have looks splendid. The kind of breakfast my own mama used to make me. I always loved miso soup in the morning! I’ll just put this in the kitchen and you can reheat it another day!”

Without waiting for approval, Mamako whisked herself and her casserole dish off to the kitchen, where she busied herself poking around. The fridge door opened, and the pantry door clicked. A quiet little _ooh_ could be heard as she inspected Shirou’s staples.

Caught between embarrassment and an odd sense of pride, Shirou sat back down again to quickly eat his own breakfast, making sure Sakura couldn’t miss how much he enjoyed it.

Taiga quickly finished chewing her mouthful and called, “So why have you moved to Miyami, Oosuki-san?”

Mamako appeared in the dining room again, holding her mitts in one hand. She still smiled but it had a sad feeling. “Oh… I’m an empty-nester so I decided to shake things up by moving someplace new.” Her smile brightened. “I’ve found adventures can be such a good way to solve your problems.”

Without looking up, Sakura spoke softly. “Where are you living? Is your new home to your liking?”

Mamako wrinkled her nose cutely. “I’m on the other side of your back alley. And that little house will be very nice… once I get it clean!” She flexed her arm, showing off her bicep. “It’s a big task but it’s a good way to stay busy!”

Shirou’s fingers twitched, and before he could think about it, he blurted, “If you’d like, I could come over to help you tomorrow.”

The older woman gave Shirou such a warm look he felt like melting. “You’re such a kind boy. I’d appreciate that!”

Sakura’s fingers tightened on her chopsticks before she set them down carefully. “I’m going to get dishes started. It was nice to meet you, Oosuki-san.”

Mamako tilted her head to one side before nodding firmly. “I’m very happy I met you as well, Sakura-chan. And now I’ll stop interrupting your precious family time! Goodbye!”

With that, the strange older woman showed herself out, leaving Shirou shaking his head at the odd morning encounter and wondering what he’d gotten himself into.


	2. Day 2 - Shirou

After school, Shirou would normally head to one of his part-time jobs. But as they always laughed with surprise when he showed up, he decided he could instead spend the time helping the Miyama newcomer clean her house. As he made his way home, he wondered if she’d have appropriate cleaning supplies.

Then the image of Mamako Oosuki flashed before his eyes and he blushed. A woman like that certainly knew her business when it came to housework. It wasn’t the fault of her skills if the job was overwhelming alone. Something about her made him feel faintly nostalgic, as if he neared something he’d both lost and forgotten.

At home, he dropped off his school stuff and changed clothes before going out the back door and crossing the alley that separated their houses. He recognized the structure: a long-empty house that hadn’t been maintained. Sometimes on dark nights, he’d imagined what the new residents would face within, and hoped devoutly they’d find the fortitude to stay longer than the last residents.

He knocked on the back door and heard Mamako call, “Oh—coming! I’ll be right there!”

When the door opened, the smell of baking tickled Shirou’s nose. Mamako had a wry smile and a smudge of flour on her face. The apron she wore over her dress showed all the signs of a day spent in hard work. Breathlessly, she said, “Come in, come in! I made cookies!”

Looking past him, she added, “Is your sister still at school?”

Hastily, Shirou said, “Oh, Sakura’s not my sister. She’s just… a friend. She usually eats with me most mornings. And evenings.”

Mamako’s eyebrows went up, but all she said was, “My mistake! It’s so nice that you take care of her like that.”

Grateful that Mamako didn’t tease him, Shirou stepped into the house and went still with both shock and twisted delight. He could see all of Mamako’s hard work in the swept floors and scrubbed windows, along with the cleaning supplies scattered everywhere. But the darkly stained walls and filthy baseboards called to him, and imagining the state of bathroom made his hands shake.

He pulled himself together. He could absolutely fix this, and it would be so much more satisfying than fixing any broken equipment at school. “Right! Let’s get to work!”

Mamako watched him with an indulgent look. “Such an enthusiastic boy. You remind me of my son Masato!”

They worked side by side for two hours, only conversing about the state of the house and the best way to tackle specific problems. Finally, Mamako wiped her brow, leaving a dusty mark behind. “Whew! I need a break! Won’t you join me in some tea and try some of the cookies I made?”

Shirou pulled himself out of his cleaning trance reluctantly. “Oh… sure. Thanks.”

In the kitchen they took turns washing their hands. The kitchen was a little messy, but it was the mess of recent baking rather than what they’d been battling in the rest of the house.

With a little laugh, Mamako said, “I spent all yesterday getting the kitchen in order, and look at it now. But don’t worry, I’ll clean it again before bed!” She set about making tea while Shirou seated himself at the makeshift table of boxes and boards. As she worked, Mamako asked Shirou a flurry of friendly questions about school and the neighborhood, which he answered politely.

Finally she set down the tea tray with a plate of cookies and plopped herself down across from him. After pouring the tea, she bit one of her cookies meditatively, and Shirou took advantage of her silence to ask her, “How are you finding the neighborhood, Oosuki-san?”

She gave him a thoughtful look, her expression more serious than she expected. “You’ve lived here a long time, Shirou-kun?”

“Yes…?”

After another bite of her cookie and a sip of her tea, she said, “Well, I had a very… odd visitor last night.”

Shirou scanned his mental file of all the people in the neighborhood, wondering who she might be talking about. In his opinion, the neighborhood was mostly full of decent, hardworking normal people, although Taiga’s visits always lowered the normalcy rating some.

Mamako went on. “A woman, very tall, and wearing very strange clothes. She wore a mask.”

Shirou blinked. “Like cosplay?”

“Maybe,” Mamako admitted. Her expression hardened. “She simply appeared in my house without knocking first. I don’t know why. I would have welcomed her if she’d behaved properly.”

“Wow,” said Shirou. “I don’t know anybody around here like that. What happened?”

Suddenly Mamako’s expression changed and she gave a little laugh. “Oh, I… convinced her to go away. You haven’t tried your cookies yet. Please do!”

Wondering about the strange woman, Shirou did so. After that, they did another hour of cleaning before Shirou realized he had to get home for Sakura’s dinner. He bid the older woman farewell, fully planning to return the next day.


	3. Day 2, Night - Gilgamesh

Gilgamesh, King of Heroes and Heroic Spirit incarnate, strolled along the darkened street, leaving a shaken teenage girl behind him. It had been a boring night and he’d been in a foul mood before he spotted Sakura Matou. But now he felt almost cheerful. Whatever happened next was certain to provide entertainment.

“Sakura-chan!” called a woman walking down the sidewalk and waving frantically. Middle-aged, but undeniably pretty, she didn’t even notice Gilgamesh as she strode past him.

His half-smirk faded. It was so typical in this adulterated era for its mongrels to be blinded to the wonders around them. He slowed his pace, listening to what happened behind him. Perhaps Sakura would be pushed into providing quality entertainment right then. Hope sprang eternal.

But instead the woman and the girl had a conversation so quiet he could only catch stray words. He crossed the street so he could justify a look, and saw them finish their conversation and part, each of them continuing the direction they’d previously been going.

Hmph. Boring. Gilgamesh returned to his own stroll, thinking about how else he could enliven the tedium of modern life. But after a few moments, he noticed the middle-aged woman crossing the intersecting street near him. She must have used a different route to end up at the same place. It was almost like she was patrolling or something.

Abruptly, he swerved to follow her, keeping half a block behind her as she paced an irregular route on her wandering through the neighborhood. He was just about to give up—or move in and frighten her—when she stopped.

“Oh, you filthy thing!” she said, her voice carrying in the quiet neighborhood. “You don’t belong here, I’m sure.”

And then she pulled an orange glowing sword out of thin air, like a Servant summoning a Noble Phantasm, and drove it into something on the ground.

Gilgamesh stood stock still, and then walked swiftly closer. If she was a Servant he needed to know—but walking around in plain sight was not Servant behavior. No, she had to be human—yet that weapon! He didn’t know everything in his vault, but such a glorious and powerful weapon he should recognize.

No matter. It was his in spirit anyhow, as everything worth having was. But he wanted to know what secret part of his garden it had been hidden in before he reclaimed it.

“Woman!” he called as he stalked forward. She turned around quickly, a surprised expression on her face as she tried to hide the large, glowing sword behind her back.

Then, looking embarrassed, she stopped the ludicrous effort andinstead let the sword dangle from her hand as she said, “Good evening! A fine night for a walk, don’t you think?”

Gilgamesh stopped a meter away and looked hard at the woman. “Where did you get that sword, woman?”

She glanced down at the orange sword as if surprised to see it and then gave Gilgamesh a wide-eyed look. “This thing? It’s a souvenir. It’s very shiny, isn’t it?”

He gave her a level stare, silently inviting her to tell the truth.

She shifted her weight. “I got it when I went on an adventure with my son.” A wistful look crossed her face. “He’s off learning to be a king now.”

“A mongrel like yourself must be so proud,” said Gilgamesh with awful sarcasm. It went completely over the shameless woman’s head.

She beamed. “Oh, I am! Very proud. But I miss him so much.” Her half-veiled gaze swept over Gilgamesh. “You seem like a nice young man.”

“I have held the title of king for too long to be—” Gilgamesh regretted it as soon as he’d started speaking, and cut himself off before he could finish the sentence. Why lower himself to inform this stupid woman?

She gave him an encouraging smile that he found intensely irritating. “Oh my, another king? How wonderful for you!”

Gilgamesh had had enough. He held out his hand. “Give me that sword right now, woman.”

A horrified look transformed her face. “Oh, I couldn’t. It reminds me of my son.” She brightened. “But I might have some candy…”

Fragments of his younger self whispered laughing nonsense to him, which he ignored as a matter of course. But his momentary hesitation sent the woman fumbling in her coat’s pockets.

Scowling, he reached to simply take the sword from her, and she held it out of his reach without even consciously noticing his effort.

“Now…” she began, glancing up.

“Woman, you aren’t a suitable wielder of such a splendid weapon! Give it to me this moment or—”

Her eyes flooded with tears. “Oh, I know! I know I’m not! But I must keep it. I need it, you see. There’s a strange woman breaking into people’s houses and these terrible giant insects—I just killed one there, do you see?” She turned to point behind, keeping the sword on her far side. “Oh. It’s gone. How curious. Just like back in—well, never mind that.” She gave him a sidelong glance, clearly wondering if he was buying her story.

Though he never used his Clairvoyance, he always had a passive sense of the honesty of his subjects. From anyone else, he would have expected a whimsical attitude such as this to be a mask. But no, to her core this woman was truly of this nature. She reminded him of the lion cubs that he had lounged with as a young boy, playful and clumsy. Gilgamesh’s mood, always mercurial, shifted in that moment, and he laughed. “Very well, woman. I’ll give you a few days more with your ‘souvenir’. But I will come for it in the end.”

“Will you?” she said in interest, and then glanced down at the hand she held it with. “Now how did it work again…?” She gave an elegant twist of her wrist and the sword vanished.

Conspiratorially, she said, “Now it’s safely out of reach of curious children.” The look she gave him made it clear she considered him exactly that.

Mildly stunned as he realized she’d considered all this a game played with a child, he merely furrowed his brow as she gave him a little bow. “It was nice meeting you, young man!” and ran past him to the main street.

By the time he’d realized he’d been somehow gulled by the woman’s sweet charm into giving up his claim on the weapon while he could access it, she was too far down the street for him to chase her. Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, did not stoop to pursuing women, even thieves.

No. If he waited long enough, an opportunity would arise to reclaim his treasure. And when it did, he’d be there.


	4. Day 3, Night - Shirou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mamako interrupts the summoning of Saber.

It was past midnight, and a nice night, but Shirou couldn’t appreciate it. Instead he slid down the outside wall of his shed, staring death in the face for the second time that day. His chest ached where he’d been stabbed earlier and kicked just a moment ago, making every heaving breath agony.

The blue-garbed man on the other end of the murderous red spear regarded him with a pained expression. “Come on, can’t you even face your death on your feet like a man?”

The spear drew back for a final thrust, and all Shirou could think about was how if he’d only trained his body more, he’d be able to move now. The door to the shed was only a few steps away. If his body would just _move_ he could find a weapon and eke out another few seconds of life. But—

That was when a crisp feminine voice said sharply, “You boys stop fighting right now!”

A woman in a white dress had come around the corner of the house and now walked across the yard like she was coming to announce the retribution of God. Dazed, Shirou blinked. His mind was too frazzled by repeated death experiences to identify her right away.

The spearman also glanced at the woman, a frown creasing his brow. “Aw, dammit. I really didn’t want to kill a woman tonight too.”

Shirou took the opportunity of the spearman’s distraction to dive for the closed door of the shed. As he wrestled it open with his unresponsive body, he noticed the woman’s step falter at the spearman’s annoyed words. Which made sense. Any sane person would be frightened at a comment like that in a situation like this.

Mamako Oosuki, that was her name. A neighbor. And now she was going to die, too. She’d probably been wondering where he was this afternoon. He’d told her he’d help her again, and he’d failed, because he’d gotten himself killed instead. And now she was going to die too. He couldn’t stand the thought. 

He finally slammed the door open, missing the strange orange light that filled the yard behind him. 

Inside the darkened shed, he fumbled around on the ground, desperately looking for a weapon, or anything he could use to make the spearman consider him a threat so Mamako could run away. No, that wouldn’t be enough to stop the spearman, who had tracked him down to kill him a second time. He needed a weapon that could _definitively_ stop the spearman. 

Blood from a wound at the back of his head dripped into his eyes as he moved around on all fours. Impatiently he wiped it off. Was it too late? It couldn’t be. He’d go out there and jump on the man no _no NO_ that wouldn’t be enough! He’d die and she’d die and--_he had to save her!_

Light flared around him, and the pure soprano voice of a flute filled his ears, followed by the crashing of cymbals. Metal boots appeared before his eyes.

“Are you my…?” said a clear feminine voice, and Shirou looked up to see the beautiful woman in blue and silver armor. She frowned without finishing her sentence at a metallic squeal sound from outside. Her jewel-like eyes focused on Shirou’s suddenly-tattooed hand, and she nodded to herself. Then she sprang past him out of the shed.

Hope suddenly bloomed in Shirou’s chest: an effervescent, singing glow that gave him the energy to scramble back out of the shed after the armored woman. He emerged just in time to see the blue-clad spearman leaping to the far side of the yard. Meanwhile, the woman in blue armor, holding something invisible in her hands, evaluated…

…evaluated Mamako, who held a glowing orange sword lightly in one hand as she pouted in the spearman’s direction. “You are being a bully! I won’t have it!”

The woman in armor had been looking between Mamako and the spearman, but Mamako’s remark seemed to decide her. She leapt toward the spearman, a wind rushing around her. The spearman, his eyes wild, retreated again, leaping to the wall of the compound and then vanishing into the darkness beyond.

The armored woman leapt to the wall to follow, but as Mamako vanished her sword and rushed to Shirou, the woman changed her mind and returned to the yard again, as if she thought Mamako might harm Shirou.

As Mamako knelt beside Shirou, who was still on his hands and knees in the dirt, the armored woman interposed herself, pointing her sword at Mamako. “Master, who is this woman?”

Shirou’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed, “…Master?” He thought of everything he knew about magecraft, summoning and familiars and tried to re-orient himself into this new situation.

Mamako meanwhile sat back on her heels and looked up at the armored woman with sparkling eyes. “I’m Mamako Oosuki, dear. I’m so glad to meet you! If I’d known Shirou-kun had a ‘party member’ like you in his shed I wouldn’t have been so worried!”

“I know Oosuki-san… Who are _you_?” Shirou finally managed.

The armored woman hesitated and then lowered her invisible weapon. “I am Saber, your Servant, and you are a Master in the Holy Grail War. Surely you know this?”

Mamako’s eyes rounded. “The Holy Grail War…” she breathed. “My goodness.”

Saber gave Mamako an uneasy look. “Are you sure this woman can be trusted, Master?”

“My name is Shirou Emiya,” said Shirou, flexing his hands nervously. Between the beautiful Saber and the motherly Mamako he had more distractions than he could afford. “Oosuki-san is a friend.”

“Very well,” said Saber, nodding. “I will consider her an ally—” Saber’s gaze sharpened and she looked toward the compound wall. “Enemies approach. I will deal with them.”

Before Shirou could respond, Saber jumped over the fence.

“Oh! No, no, she mustn’t fight visitors!” Mamako ran back the way she came, her skirt clutched between her fingers.

A feeling that something terrible was about to happen grew in Shirou’s chest and he loped after Mamako rather slowly, his whole body aching after what he’d gone through tonight. 

A babble of voices, all female, came from beyond the fence and Shirou pushed his body a little faster. When he rounded the corner, he saw Mamako fling herself between Saber and a white-haired man in a black bodysuit holding a shortsword. Beyond the combatants stood a familiar figure: Rin Tohsaka, the honor student from school.

“Get out of the way,” Saber commanded Mamako.

Meanwhile, the man in black held out his hand and a second short sword appeared. He seemed to look right through Mamako as he studied Saber.

Mamako, who stood with her arms resolutely out, said,”Shirou-kun would never approve of this behavior—oh dear.” Her head turned to look at the man’s two swords and her eyes widened.

Then, cheerfully, she said, “I have two swords too, you know.” Her orange sword appeared in one outstretched hand, while a a blue sword appeared in the other, water spiraling around the blade.

“Um, hi, Tohsaka-san,” called Shirou weakly. “Is this your… your friend?”

“He’s my Servant, Emiya-san,” said Rin crossly. “I guess I didn’t need to rush over here to save your life after all.” She waved her hand at the man in black.

He said in a deep voice, “What? I’m not putting my weapons down while Saber here’s about to kill me with the kindergarten teacher providing cover.”

Shirou said quickly, “Saber…? Do you think you could….?”

With a resigned sigh, Saber said, “I can already see you have far too many friends to be a proper magus, Master. I request that you please dedicate some time to figuring out how we’re going to win this Holy Grail War.” At the end of her speech, she lowered her sword of air. 

Mamako vanished both her swords and clapped her hands happily. “I think what we all need after an adventure like this is some nice tea and and explanations.” She paused, tilting her head, a listening look on her face. When nothing immediately happened, her face fell. “I suppose she’s not here, then.”

Meanwhile, the man in black made an odd, abortive movement, as if he’d been considering pressing an attack anyhow by going around Mamako and his own feet had tripped him. He caught himself, his twin shortswords vanishing, and when he came up again, he said, “I’ll watch from the roof, Master. Enjoy your tea. Don’t be so dumb as to get poisoned.”

He dematerialized, but Mamako’s gaze remained fixed on where he’d been as she said, “Well! _That_ certainly isn’t a very nice young man. He and that boy in blue both seem like they need a good talking-to.”

“Boy in blue? So Lancer _was_ here?” demanded Rin of Shirou.

Tiredly, his sides aching more, Shirou said, “Ah, how about everybody who wants to come inside for tea, and… and we can talk.” _And maybe somebody will finally explain what’s going on…_


	5. Day 3, Night - Gilgamesh

“Hah, woman, are you already kneeling for your king?” Gilgamesh spoke mockingly from his perch on one of the Emiya mansion yard light fixtures. He’d found the woman by accident on a ramble when he’d been disinterestedly tracking Servant presences and discovered her right in the heart of the energy tangle. Why such a woman was kneeling in a _white dress_ in the dust to — to do _what_? He couldn’t imagine—but the idea that she would do _whatever_ it was rather than kneel to him increasingly infuriated him each moment longer that he watched her work.

The fact that he hadn’t commanded her to kneel before him was irrelevant. If the mongrels of this era had acquired any wisdom, she would have recognized her king at once.

Mamako paused in collecting glass shards from the nearby broken window, glancing up at his jeer with a swift smile. She viewed his superior positioning with friendly, unsurprised interest. “Good evening. Are you another one of the adventurers who seem to be living around here?”

After leaping gracefully to the ground beside her, Gilgamesh’s hands brushed over his modern pants and black button-down, making sure the inferior products he graced with his favor had endured the Servant’s degree of mobility. They had this time, he noted approvingly. He smirked to himself. He’d have to reward the production design team of that clothing label. Each member handpicked by him, they were some of the rare mongrels who could, with enough effort on the part of their master, learn to improve. He’d made the effort entirely for his own satisfaction.

Sometimes he had doubts about that choice. Using the best of humanity and the fruits of humanity’s development primarily to meet his own needs sabotaged humanity’s growth. And yet, what was a reincarnated god-king supposed to do? Go without?

To the impertinent middle-aged woman at his feet, he said, “That you must ask that is a sign of this degenerate era. To progress so far and lose so much, pfah.”

Still kneeling in the dust, Mamako tilted her upturned head, pouted and knocked her knuckles on the side of her head. “Oh no, it can’t be. I’m sure it’s just me. I can be such an airhead, you know!” She gave him an encouraging smile. “I learned a little about this stuff from my son. What, ah, oh, I know, I know! What class are you?”

He stared down at her. For a heartbeat, or maybe only half, he was genuinely _amazed_ at her enlightened innocence. She didn’t speak as a magus, but as the mother of a _gamer_. And yet she wasted no time denying his reality. “Archer,” he told her, almost absently.

She smiled so brightly that he thought of the Gate of Babylon. Clapping her hands, she said. “And your level?”

Gil snorted. “Woman, stop dirtying yourself at my feet and treat me as a guest.” 

She bounced to her feet with the vim and sway of a teenager. After a moment spent grudgingly appreciating her possibly-mongrel but also-undeniably-very-fine breasts under that dress, he added, “The king of heroes graces your threshold tonight.”

He didn’t speak to his board of directors quite like that these days, of course. He settled for “Sir!” rather than a more traditional form of address. And disciplining their inevitable confusion and ignorance was ultimately both boring and useless, so he tolerated more than the usual amount of insolence in his favorite toys. He’d used a more casual style of speech most of the time for a half decade now, a style that left those around him no doubt that he was master, and yet a master who smiled, and who might, if they worked _very _hard to please him, offer praise.

And yet this woman somehow took him back to better times, when he’d had people, few though there had been, worth impressing around him. He’d spoken in a certain way then and it echoed in his behavior now.

“Oh, I’m only helping out here for a few hours. But I’ll make sure to let the actual householder know!” Mamako gave him a twinkling look and then went back into the house. After carefully disposing of the glass she’d collected, she scrubbed her hands and arms, washed her face and put on an apron. Gil watched all of this while leaning against the wall just beyond the kitchen, his arms across his chest.

She gave him a little sideways glance and said, “The king of heroes is a very handsome title.” Her brow furrowed. “Wait—handsome? I meant impressive! Why did I say he was handsome--I mean, why it. Handsome. Impressive! You know, I think I should put away these dishes now before Shirou and his friends return!”

Her gaze now glued to the kitchen counter, Mamako started putting away spoons, the drawer rattling with each movement.

Gilgamesh smiled, amused. “I’d hoped you might be an entertaining conversationalist again, but it seems I hoped in vain. You stumble over your words like a drunkard.”

“Oh no, how could you say that?” said Mamako, finishing with the dishes and beginning to fuss with the tea things. “How does someone become the king of heroes, anyway?”

“They don’t,” said Gilgamesh, his smile vanishing “Because I already exist.”

“Oh,” said Mamako, giving Gilgamesh a mischievous look from the corner of her eye. “I think I’ve heard of that kind of title? The kind where you type it in yourself and hope nobody else typed it in first?”

The sheer audacity of the remark went past Gilgamesh for a moment. He’d been distracted by the curve of her spine as she turned, and the way her eyes peeped past her swept-down eyelashes. He was _almost certain_ she was completely unaware of how sexy it made her look.

Then she furrowed her brow, pouting as she looked around for the sugar, and Gilgamesh realized what she’d said. His eyes narrowed even as his mouth twitched, and he didn’t know whether he would have growled, grimaced or grinned if he’d stooped to revealing his emotions to this impudent mongrel.

She gazed up at the overhead cupboards that were the only ones she hadn’t looked through. They were out of her reach, which she didn’t seem to realize until she’d held her hands up and jumped up and down a few times. She glanced around for a stool, still pouting. Then Gilgamesh inserted himself into space beside her, so close she stumbled into his chest.

He steadied her at the waist with one hand, while reaching up to the high cupboard, flipping it open and withdrawing the sugar with the other. He dropped the sugar on the counter and then locked his hands together around Mamako’s waist, completing one extended, perfectly smooth motion.

“Eek!” said Mamako, staring at her hands on Gil’s chest. “Um.” She made an abortive move to turn away, and then froze like a deer in headlights as she pushed her palms over his sculpted pectorals. Quickly she dropped her hands to smooth down her dress and tried to turn again. 

This time, Gilgamesh allowed it, enjoying following her antics more than the idea of bending her to his will. He unlocked his hands but left one brushing against her hip, as a reminder.

“Oh yes, there’s the sugar. You know, you’re very much like my son Ma-kun! _Just_ his age! And… and… so much… taller…” She trailed off, as if she didn’t know where that was going.

“Give me my tea, woman,” he said, thinking about the rare, distinct sweetness of tree-ripened fruit after a year of drought. When he moved his hand his knuckle stroked down the curve of her backside, and his groin tightened.

After a short pause, she poured and handed him a little cup of tea, keeping her eyes down until she released the cup to him. Then she gave him that vault-worthy bright smile again. “I’m a bit tired, so while I’m very happy to have encountered you again, young man and fellow midnight patroller,” she gave him a magical girl salute, “you’ll have to go back to your patrol after your tea. I expect Shirou-kun and his party will be returning soon and I haven’t finished picking up that glass yet!”

And, in a way that Gil suspected was meant to be defiant, she picked up her own teacup, stepped firmly away from him, and buried her nose in the fragrant steam. 

He sipped his own tea, considering his choices. For his first option, he could simply carry her off now, lay her across any bed he chose, and fuck her until she bored him before sending her back to her silly little life. As a second option, given where he’d found her and what she could do, leaving her in place could be even more entertaining, perhaps even useful for his long-term goals.

“Now where did I put that dustpan?” mumbled Mamako, her head down as she edged past. Gil out of the kitchen. It was obvious she was worried he’d grab her. But that very reaction helped him decide. He would be patient. Or at least he would wait, oh, another day or so. 

He had time. The Grail War had hardly begun.

“Now,” he said, leaning forward to put down the teacup. “You will see me again, woman.” He meant it as command rather than reassurance.

“I’d enjoy that,” she said, her expression lightening. Then she tossed off another one of those ridiculous salutes and ended with a finger gun. “I mean, we patrollers of the midnight hour need to meet up and compare notes sometimes! But it’s bedtime for now, pardner!” Once again, she looked at him from the corner of her eye as if evaluating if he believed her.

And once again, Gil experienced the unbelievable realization that she’d been playing with him as with a child. 

For option 3, he realized, he could give up any future entertainment the woman might offer in exchange for flattening this house, this neighborhood, this _city. _The idea seemed full of a simple but pure appeal at that exact moment.

Then Gilgamesh noticed the red flush high in Mamako’s cheeks, like she was a touch overheated, and wondered if he was wrong about the game she was playing.  Abruptly he said, “This audience is over,” and departed.

He had no earthly idea what would have happened if he’d stayed. It was a strange, dizzy, _marvelous_ feeling.


	6. Day 4 - Mamako

Mamako woke late in the morning, and missed her son. If he’d been around, she would have woken early and made breakfast for him, laughing as he dragged himself to the kitchen and complained about her fussing. Once he was off to school, she’d take herself to work. It would be because he needed dinner that she’d end a shift at one of her part-time jobs. For him, she did laundry regularly, kept the house sparkling, properly observed every holiday. 

Now that he was gone, the ache of his absence gnawed at her like a hungry pup she couldn’t feed. She was so happy they’d had the Adventure together, and that he’d found his path on it. They’d become so much closer, too. His infrequent letters showed he’d become a young man who could appreciate his mother. 

But sometimes a small, hated voice in the back of her head pointed out that if they hadn’t had the Adventure, he would still be with her now. He’d perhaps even be with her for the rest of her life, taking care of her in her old age as she’d taken care of him when he was young. 

Instead, they were separated by a gulf as wide as an ocean, and she overslept and got depressed by the chores. Shirase, ever helpful, had advised her to get another job, even though the loot from the Adventure guaranteed she’d never again struggle to put dinner on the table for her family.

Once again pain stabbed at her heart. _Family_… her family had been a small one, but she’d cherished it, cherished the little circle she and her son made. It had been disintegrating before the Adventure, which is why despite the little voice, she could never regret accepting Shirase’s special invitation.

“No!” she said resolutely, and sat up on her futon. “This is all nonsense.”

_Don’t be sad,_ said the Holy Sword Artura of Mother Ocean, or as Mamako called her, Umiko. _You still have us. Can we clean the house for you yet?_

Mamako tilted her head and looked around. She and Shirou had made some progress the other day. Part of her clung to the idea that she needed to do the work the old-fashioned way simply… because. Because that was how she’d always done it. Because staying within the boundaries she’d set was comfortable, even safe. But the Adventure had shown her a world beyond, and now that there were children who needed her, she realized doing the work by hand had been a vain attempt to avoid embracing her new life. 

Honestly, it had been a fine idea when she had nothing else to occupy her. But late last night, Rin along with Shirou’s other two party members had brought back the poor boy absolutely covered in blood, with the marks of truly horrific injuries on his body. He’d healed rapidly due to some kind of magic, and had been in a natural slumber when Mamako had finally withdrawn to her own home, reassured repeatedly by Rin that Archer would fetch her if anything happened.

Mamako had recognized from the look in Archer’s eye that he would do no such thing unless compelled to do so. But instinct told her Shirou would be fine by morning, so she’d returned to her house rather than trouble Rin further, and then stayed up until dawn watching the wall around the Emiya mansion.

“Perhaps later, my dears,” Mamako said to the twin holy swords Tsuchiko and Umiko. “But this morning, I’d like to go for a walk.” She performed her morning ablutions, ate a breakfast bar—it was pathetic how she’d relied on her son’s presence to eat a proper breakfast—and set out into the noontime sunshine. A cool breeze blew tumbling white clouds across a pale blue sky, but the sunshine made everything bright and cheerful despite the season.

The night before, while checking Shirou’s bandages, she’d asked Saber, hovering worriedly nearby, about the Master who had assaulted the poor boy. All Rin had said was _Another Master. Don’t worry about it. _But Saber, who had accepted her as Shirou’s ally in this mysterious Holy Grail War, had been less evasive.

_“My goodness. Shirou certainly is healing quickly,” Mamako said. “But judging from these wounds, this other Master must have been a _giant_._”

_“He was an idiot,” muttered Saber. “The Master wasn’t a giant but the Servant was, madam.”_

_Mamako wrung out a cloth and wiped Shirou’s forehead. “And the Master ordered his Servant to attack you while you were walking home from church. How awful!”_

_“She was waiting for us.” The Servant’s gaze was riveted on the teenage boy. “She knew Shirou somehow. She called him onii-chan.”_

_“My goodness,” Mamako repeated quietly. “Sit here, my dear. If he wakes soon, he’ll appreciate seeing your face.”_

The fragrant evergreens of a neighbor’s carefully cultivated garden perfumed the air as Mamako strolled down the street, fading behind her as she turned toward the hill near Shirou’s home. She’d noticed a pale-haired young girl on this street several times over her previous daytime walks, during school hours, and once late at night, too. The child had given her a cool, reserved look each time, so Mamako had resolved to only keep an eye on her from a distance unless trouble like those filthy insects threatened.

But now, she wondered if the child was herself a threat. She didn’t know, but she admitted it was _possible_. The idea shocked her far less than it would have before the Adventure, but it still made her knit her brow. Anybody that age shouldn’t be commanding giants in _any_ kind of war, but going to school and laughing with friends.

The wind lifted her hair and caught her dress around her knees. Mamako laughed as she realized she’d forgotten to wear a coat or hat, even with the fangs of winter gnawing deep into the bones of the land. She really was an airhead sometimes. But honestly, it was only a little chilly. She didn’t want to go home for such a trifling reason, not when the day was so nice and she had work to do.

As she caught her hair back from her face, she saw a small figure trudging ahead of her at the top of the hill. At the same time, a familiar masculine voice behind her said, “Have you no coat, woman?”

Looking quickly over her shoulder, she saw the tall form of the abrupt, dramatic young man she’d met twice before. The _King of Heroes_, she recalled, and smiled at the memory. “I do, but I forgot mine today. It’s not so cold, though!” She glanced at the top of the hill again, but the small figure had vanished on the other side. “It’s so nice to see you, Hero-kun, but I have to go. There’s somebody I _must_ speak with ahead.”

Without further ado, she hurried on, her hair whipping in her face. A moment later when Hero-kun appeared beside her, matching her pace effortlessly, she felt a small pout pull at her mouth. She did her best, she really did, but these tall boys with their long legs could out-pace her at any time. 

She remembered the day her son Masato had begun to walk faster than her. It had happened so _fast_. One day he’d been constantly trailing behind and she needed to slow down to match his pace as he held her hand. What seemed like the next, he’d been striding ahead, teasing her for being so slow.

“Very well,” said Hero-kun. “But after you have completed whatever trivial distraction you’ve found, you will come with me.”

Breathlessly, Mamako shook her head but asked indulgently, “Where… where would you take me?” Once she made sure the little girl wasn’t the one who had hurt Shirou, she didn’t mind going for a little walk with Hero-kun. Although she hoped it wouldn’t end in such an enclosed space as Shirou’s kitchen again. He was around her son’s age and it was dreadfully improper, but she couldn’t help being a little more… aware of Hero-kun than she felt comfortable with. She’d embarrassed herself so much the night before, and she was still grateful he’d made it into a joke.

“Wheresoever I please, of course.” He added, after a few steps, “Someplace warm enough for a foolish woman without even a jacket.”

“That could be nice!” she told him as they crested the hill. On the other side, the young girl with the white hair walked slowly away. Catching up with her would be easy. As for talking to her… Mamako felt for her change purse in her dress pocket and closed her fingers around a five hundred yen coin.

Hero-kun’s fingers closed tightly around her arm as his pace slackened, forcing her to slow with him. He demanded, “Is that the girl you’re trying to catch?” 

“Yes?” said Mamako, giving him an inquiring look. “Do you know her?”

But all Hero-kun said was, “Hmm,” as he released her arm. “Return here once you’ve completed your little chat.” And stepping away from her side, he leaned against a light post with his hands in his pockets, looking extremely striking in his black jacket as he did so.

Mamako didn’t waste time wondering at his behavior. Instead she pattered after the young girl, calling, “Ojousan! Ojousan! Did you drop this?”

The girl slowed and then glanced over her shoulder, her brow furrowed as Mamako caught up with her, panting, the five hundred yen coin held out on her outstretched palm.

The strangeness of the child’s gaze struck Mamako immediately. They weren’t the eyes of a child who respected teachers and depended on adults; she looked at Mamako as if they were equals, or even as if Mamako were her inferior. But she spoke politely when she said, “Not mine.”

“Oh my, really? I wonder…” Then she shook her head and added brightly, “I’m very new to this neighborhood. Do you know of someplace that might appreciate five hundred yen? I wouldn’t feel right keeping it.”

The girl shook her head. “I don’t, I’m sorry.”

“Oh well,” said Mamako ruefully. She gave a small bow. “My name is Mamako Oosuki. It’s nice to meet you.”

After subjecting her to a long, thoughtful stare, the girl said slowly, “I am Illyasviel. Why don’t you have a coat?”

Mamako laughed. “I forgot mine. I was so excited to get out into the fresh air. My new house is full of dust and the stink of cleaning fluid, you see. The worst combination!”

“Oh,” said Illyasviel. She looked down and then looked up at Mamako again, and suddenly she did have a child’s eyes—and a lonely child at that. “I can’t talk,” she said, almost under her breath.

“Certainly not!” said Mamako warmly. “You were on your way somewhere and I interrupted that. But I hope you’ll wave next time we see each other, Illya-chan?”

A tiny smile teased at the corner of Illya’s mouth. “All right.”

With another small bow, Mamako turned and walked back up the hill. When she glanced over her shoulder, Illya had continued on her way in her warm purple coat.

Hero-kun remained leaning against his light post as Mamako neared him, his gaze fixed on her in a way she’d spent a lot of time learning to ignore. That she seemed to be _enjoying_ Hero-kun’s attention on a very physical level discomfited her. That hadn’t happened in a long time.

As she got close, he called, “So slow returning, woman? You should hurry toward me.”

“I don’t want to be out of breath again,” she said. “Panting isn’t very ladylike.”

The way his eyes narrowed and dropped to her chest made her feel hot all over despite the cold air, followed immediately by a strong sense of guilt. Hero-kun was _her son’s age_. Masato was certainly capable of appreciating a woman’s charms—but young women, the same age as himself. She was practically—well, no use thinking about that. Young men looked at everything. She needed to ignore it and think about something else.

So as she came to a halt at his side, she looked down the hill, shading her eyes against the afternoon light. “Hero-kun, as one midnight patroller to another, do you think that child is capable of attacking someone?”

“Yes,” he said, as if he found the topic uninteresting. “Come along, woman.” He took her by the elbow and pulled her along the cross street.

“So insistent!” she teased, but the warmth of his hand made her want to press against him. Perhaps empty nest syndrome was making her go a little crazy. “Well, perhaps for a little bit. But I need to go check on another young friend soon.”

“Hah.” His laugh was without humor. “Think of something other than children for once, woman.”

The idea made Mamako uncomfortable, too uncomfortable to respond as she ought. But a moment later as his rapid pace made her stumble, she slid a sidelong glance at him and murmured sweetly, “If you go too fast, you’ll pull me off my feet.”

He glanced at her and then stopped abruptly, the scorching look in his ruby eyes as they swept over her body making Mamako want to back away. But his iron grip on her elbow made that impossible.

_Not impossible, Mamako, _chirped the water sword Umiko in her mind.

Mamako shook her head in response to the sword. She didn’t want to hurt or even threaten Hero-kun. She just wished he wouldn’t look at her in ways her body kept misinterpreting. It had been a long time since she _wanted_ that kind of attention, and it was so shameful that such feelings were being triggered by little more than a schoolboy.

Hero-kun’s eyes narrowed, focusing on her mouth before her met her gaze again. “If you want us to arrive at our destination, don’t look at me like that again.”

Now completely flustered, Mamako only said, “Oh… oh, of course,” and concentrated on not stumbling over her feet again as he began to pull her along. After about ten minutes, Hero-kun paused once more and Mamako glanced up. The sky had become white with clouds and the temperature had plummeted. Hero-kun stared up at the clouds like they’d personally offended him. 

He snapped his fingers and cloth spilled from nowhere into his hand. When he swung it around Mamako’s shoulders, she realized it was a cloak of red velvet trimmed with gold: warm and soft and smelling of sage and roses. “My goodness,” she murmured. “Where did this come from?”

He fastened it together at her collarbone and said, “Where did you put that sword of mine?” His fingers tickled her throat and Mamako giggled helplessly, twisting her head. 

Then he smoothed the cloak over her shoulders and leaned down, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, “I will reclaim it in the end.” His lips touched her earlobe and the jolt of heat through her body sent her stumbling back from him.

As he caught her elbow again, Umiko again spoke hopefully, _He presumes too much, Mamako! We aren’t his. You aren’t his. Let me wash him away._

_Let me bury him,_ added the Holy Sword Tera of the Earth, or Tsuchiko as Mamako thought of her.

“No, no, no,” Mamako said to the swords, once again shaking her head furiously.

Hero-kun raised his eyebrows. “Yes,” he said inexorably. “Come along.”

Mamako took a deep breath as he once again pulled her along, re-centering herself as she’d learned to do after a frustrating day behind a cash register. Young men of this age, like her son’s friends, acted this way. Not… not wrapping their hands around her waist or putting their lips to her ear, not inducing such _indecent_ reactions from her, but… they were demanding. Impatient with older women. Temperamental. She’d found it was best to have the patience they lacked, to try to enter into what they found so important. So many young people needed more of a mama than they had. Like poor Shirou, and Rin, too.

For some reason, she couldn’t _imagine_ trying to mother Hero-kun.

The rattle of a door and the rush of warm air brought Mamako out of her daze. They’d arrived at a little corner shopping center, with a cluster of little offices, a corner grocery, and a clinic. Hero-kun pulled her up some stairs right inside the entrance to one of the offices. On the third floor, which was the top floor, there was a tiny shop serving hot drinks with a line of customers all the way to the stairwell.

“Here,” said Hero-kun. He pulled her past the line to the shop’s interior where three abused plastic tables sat next to big windows. Then he released her arm, strode to the pickup counter and spoke imperatively to the young women delivering a drink to a patiently waiting old woman.

The young woman blushed, smiled and bowed, and a moment later put two tiny cups in Hero-kun’s hand. Hero-kun in turn guided Mamako to stand beside the big window overlooking the neighborhood, the light touch of his hand on her lower back making her bite her lip momentarily, and then put one of the cups in Mamako’s hand. “Drink.”

Cautiously, Mamako sipped. Steaming bittersweet liquid chocolate coated her tongue, and she blinked in surprise. She’d had hot chocolate before, of course. When she’d been young, she’d even rather enjoyed it. But she thought of it as a young person’s drink, and to be honest, the weak, watery hot chocolate she could get at most cafes just didn’t appeal to her anymore. She always felt she’d grown past it, left it behind. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed it.

But this chocolate was richer and thicker than ordinary hot chocolate, and had the perfect degree of sweetness for her palate. It rushed right past her expectations and reminded her of how good hot chocolate could be. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste, the feel, the warmth of another sip. She could feel the chocolate spreading through her, making her body tingle with the bliss only excellent food and drink could provide.

It was no wonder the drink was served in so small a cup, and there was such a line here! Too much at once would knock a woman out. Mamako opened her eyes partially, regarding Hero-kun over the cup’s rim as she savored a third sip. He’d already finished his entirely, and somehow she wasn’t surprised. Now he watched her with the interest of a cat watching a mouse hole.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It’s very good.”

“Of course it is,” he said dismissively. “But that you can appreciate it is promising.”

Mamako took another slow sip, letting the taste flow through her again. When she opened her eyes, she realized the line had vanished and the shop seemed to be closing up, with the old man and young woman behind the counter polishing their equipment.

“Oh dear,” said Mamako. “Should we go too? I suppose I really ought to get back to Shirou-kun.” In response, Hero-kun took the half-empty cup from her hand and put it on the table. The look in his eyes made her add hurriedly, “This has been so nice, but the poor boy is ill and I promised to take care of him.”

But Hero-kun’s hands were on her waist again, pulling her close. His golden hair fell over one eye and then his mouth brushed across her temple. Her heart thudded in her chest and her breath shortened. She felt his mouth curve against her skin and recalled the look in Hero-kun’s eyes when she’d mentioned panting earlier. Over at the counter, the old man bid his young assistant farewell, and turned his back on his remaining two customers. 

“Oh, Hero-kun, you’re so… so friendly…” Her thoughts were entirely scrambled now by his proximity, and by the disapproving whispers of Umiko and Tsuchiko in her mind. As Hero-kun’s lips once again touched her ear, she stifled a moan. The chocolate seemed to have sensitized her entire body.

“You talk and talk, woman.” His mouth brushed the skin below her ear. One of his hands caressed her backside, just as he had the night before. She’d carefully boxed away that moment, aided by Shirou’s bloody return, but she remembered it now, and how shameful her body’s reaction had been.

“You’re quite a nice young man underneath… underneath everything.” she mumbled. She ought to push him away, call for help, even bring out Tsuchiko. He was behaving no better than a harasser, and he _needed_ to be told no, so he could learn. But her whole body was aflame from the chocolate and from his touch. Her breasts tingled as they hadn’t in years. She felt like a great _many_ things she’d boxed away were escaping her control. It both frightened and thrilled her.

“No,” he murmured against her throat. “Not at all.” His fingers left her waist and backside to unfasten the cloak. It pooled around her feet, and the loss of its warmth made her feel almost naked. Then he ran his long-fingered hands down her body and she couldn’t stop that moan, tilting her head back.

_Oh, no, no no_, she thought frantically, tears pricking at her eyes even as her body arched toward his._ I’m behaving like a perfect _wanton_. Masato would be so ashamed of me!_ But her hands crept around Hero-kun’s shoulders anyhow, and when he laughed against her collarbone, she quivered with excitement.

She couldn’t do this! Not here and now in this almost-empty cafe, not by seducing such a young man, not when she had children who needed her. And yet she pressed her body against his and felt the undeniable proof of his attraction to her.

Then his mouth stilled and his head lifted. After a moment, he said, “Hmm,” and she realized he was looking out the big window at something below. Grateful for the moment to try and clear her head, she twisted to see what had distracted him.

On the sidewalk below stood a dark-haired woman, holding the hand of a young child with opalescent hair while looking up at the shop window. Narrowing her eyes, Mamako saw that the child wore ornaments shaped like long, curling horns in her hair, and clutched a green-haired dolly.

“Do you know them?” Mamako asked breathlessly.

Hero-kun’s eyes moved back to her. “Tell me your name, woman.”

Hot crimson suffused Mamako’s face as what she’d just been doing acquired even more context. “Mamako Oosuki. I’m new to this neighborhood… Who are you, please? I can’t keep thinking of you as Hero-kun now.”

He laughed, but again without much humor. “Hero-sama will be sufficient. Please me more and perhaps I’ll grant you something else to call me.” His finger stroked up her throat to lift her chin. “Now. The old man at the counter will call you a car, which will take you wherever you ask. If you decide to walk home, I will be extremely displeased _with the old man_. Once I have attended to some business—” his gaze flicked to the window again, “—we will return to this discussion. Tell me you understand.”

She gazed up at him, at his commanding expression, and a laugh trembled on her lips. “I always told my son that when all other sins are old, greed remains young, Hero-sama. Is this your secret?”

His expression darkened, as it had before when she teased him. But this time instead of stalking away, he caught her face between his hands and kissed her forcefully, if briefly. Then he whispered harshly, “You and that sword are _both_ mine. Don’t forget it.”

Then he was gone, striding from the cafe. When Mamako looked out the window again, the woman and the child had vanished, and she never saw Hero-sama emerge from the ground floor. At last, when the old man approached her and politely told her the car was waiting, she gave up watching and let the car take her to Shirou’s house, where, Holy Grail War or not, she understood exactly who and what she was.


	7. Day 4, Evening - Shirou

“Do you like her, Shirou?” Taiga quietly asked about the blonde girl following behind Sakura, him and herself as they walked home from Sunday archery practice.

Shirou flushed. “How should I know? We only just met.” He’d had to tell Taiga that Saber was a daughter of one of his father’s Western friends, because telling her that Saber was a magical familiar meant to be his ally in a supernatural war game was only going to lead to trouble.

Probably even more trouble than he was already in for inviting a strange girl to stay in his house.

He hadn’t wanted to tell Taiga or Sakura about Saber at all, but the warrior had refused to let him leave the house alone after what had happened the night before, even just to bring lunch to the archery club for his guardian. They’d ended up staying all afternoon because Shirou couldn’t quite figure out how to extricate himself.

He’d committed to fighting the night before but already he half-wished he’d never stayed late at school the day before. That desire of his to help out had really screwed things up this time, and now both Tohsaka and Mamako would be troubled by the consequences of his inability to say no even to Shinji’s entitled demands.

But Shirou was determined to keep Sakura and Taiga out of it. If only Saber hadn’t made it so… awkward. He could feel Sakura’s questioning gaze on him, and Taiga was uncharacteristically silent as she digested his response about Saber.

“You might, though,” she murmured, and that was all until they arrived at the Emiya residence. Then she smacked her fist into her palm and announced, “Make a good dinner to celebrate Saber-san’s arrival. I’m going for a little walk.”

There never was any predicting how Taiga would react to anything. Shirou shook his head as he unlocked the house.

Sakura murmured, “I suppose Fujimura-sensei has accepted her,” and then lapsed into silence as she went into the living room and sat down at the table, staring down at her hands. Saber quietly followed her and sat across the table, watching Shirou as he moved to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Shirou scratched his head and then washed his hands before inspecting the ingredients he had on hand. He decided he could probably make a pretty nice dinner in keeping with Taiga’s instructions. And he wanted to make something delicious to thank Saber for her efforts the night before anyhow. He’d already noticed just how much she appreciated food. He wondered if Sakura would help him, but realized belatedly that she’d been unusually quiet and withdrawn since he’d announced Saber’s stay.

He glanced at her, but she didn’t look up even when the knife drawer rattled open. He hoped nothing strange had happened to her at club practice. She’d seemed fine earlier that day, but sometimes being at school put her in odd moods.

Well, it was better not to disturb someone when she had something on her mind. Besides, there wasn’t much he could do to cheer her up except making a tasty dinner, so he decided to focus on that for the moment. He set about making minced bonito salad, fried chicken, meat stew and tempura of every variety including shrimp. He had almost everything ready except the tempura and the second fry of the chicken before Taiga returned, and when she did—

“We’re home!” she called from the entrance.

A second, less familiar voice said, “Thank you for having me!”

After a longer delay than usual, Taiga and Mamako appeared in the living room, both smiling cheerfully. Shirou started finishing dinner while Sakura managed the ‘curious look’ duty. It was a partnership they’d perfected over more than a year of sharing dinner with Taiga and the strange things she’d bring home.

“There was an accident at Mamako-san’s house,” announced Taiga. “She won’t be able to live there for a while, so I told her she could stay here. That’s all right, Shirou, yes? I mean, you have plenty of room and hotels are so expensive. I’m _sure_ Saber-san can relate.”

Shirou frowned as he arranged food on platters. “What kind of accident?” He hoped Mamako remembered what Rin had said the night before about the importance of keeping the Holy Grail War a secret.

Airily, Taiga said, “A fire in her kitchen. Nobody was hurt but the whole room is gutted and everything stinks of smoke now.”

Carefully Shirou finished placing the food, thinking about the coincidence of Mamako needing a place to stay the same day Saber moved in. After Sakura helped him carry the platters to the table, he took off and folded his apron, still thinking. Finally, putting his hands on his hips, he confronted Taiga. “Fuji-nee, did you _set fire to Oosuki-san’s house?”_

Taiga gave him a shocked, wide-eyed look. “What a horrible thing to say, Shirou!”

Earnestly, Mamako said, “Oh, no, I’m sure it must have been an accident! Taiga-san was just helping me move some things and it was really quite a strange coincidence but—”

Shirou put his hand over his eyes and said wearily, “Welcome to my home, Oosuki-san. I’m sure Fuji-nee already assigned you a room.”

The older woman beamed. “Please, call me Mamako!”

At first Shirou thought dinner might end up being uncomfortable despite all the effort he went to preparing it. Sakura kept her head down, and Saber and Taiga both focused on stuffing their faces. But in between praising each dish in a way that showed she knew her way around a Japanese cookbook, Mamako convinced Taiga to tell her a funny story of Kiritsugu and Shirou when Shirou finally took over doing the cooking. After that she told an even funnier story of her own son Masato, and finally turned her gentle attention onto Sakura.

“Taiga-san has told me you’re the rising star of the archery club, Sakura-san?”

Sakura blushed and said in a tiny voice, “I don’t deserve such praise.” It was the first thing she’d said the entire meal.

“Oh?” said Mamako. “Ah. Well, I don’t think your club advisor was mistaken, but I hope I can see for myself someday. I’ve also heard that your cooking skills are just as polished as Shirou-kun’s?”

When Sakura glanced up this time, there was a hint of steel in her eyes. “I’ve learned a great deal from Senpai. He’s a very good teacher.”

Mamako laughed cheerfully. “I’m happy to hear that!” She lowered her voice as if confiding something just to Sakura, even though they were at opposite ends of the table. “If you’d like me to take my turn cooking for everyone, I shall, but you know, I’ll be very happy to just appreciate your good food.” Then she clapped her hands. “I know! I’ll be responsible for clean-up after meals.”

Sakura’s brow furrowed, and she glanced quickly at Shirou before looking away. “That isn’t—”

The older woman looked between Sakura and Shirou as well. “You’re a good girl who helps him that way, too? But I have a better idea. After dinner, young people should enjoy themselves, don’t you think?”

“But I—” began Sakura, now clearly confused.

“Shirou, do you have any ideas for entertaining Sakura?” went on Mamako, as oblivious as a bulldozer.

Shirou scratched his head, puzzled as to why Mamako wasn’t including Saber and Taiga in her plans for his evening. “I think I have some cards somewhere… we could all play a game?”

“If you think that is wise, Shirou,” said Saber, a doubtful expression on her face.

Hastily Shirou said, “If you’d rather rest, Saber, I understand.”

Saber shook her head and said firmly, “If you wish to play a game, I will also play. I do not know modern games but I learn very quickly.”

Shirou winced, but nobody seemed to notice Saber’s phrasing. Taiga was too busy eating the last of the shrimp and nodding general approval, while Sakura bit her lip, frowning down at the table.

“I’ll guess I’ll go find those cards. Sakura, will you show Mamako around the kitchen?”

Mamako rose to her feet. “No need! I explored it last—” she suddenly looked stricken. “I mean, it looks very much like my kitchen! Before it caught on fire, I mean. My, what a well-organized kitchen this is. Is the sugar up there? How _do_ you reach it, Sakura?”

Shaking his head, Shirou went to poke around in one of the rooms Taiga had repurposed as her own personal storage. When he finally found a cardboard box containing several sets of cards, he returned to the living room and turned off the TV Taiga had settled herself before.

“Hey! I was keeping up on all those gas leaks and criminal attacks, Shirou!” Taiga complained. “Saber was watching too, right, Saber-chan?”

“This city is certainly dangerous,” said Saber quietly. “But such news can’t be good for proper digestion.”

Meanwhile, Sakura was still in the kitchen with Mamako, and there was the quiet murmur of voices under the sound of running water. Rather than accidentally eavesdrop, Shirou raised his voice. “Sakura! Would you like to play this game I found?”

“Oh!” came Sakura’s voice and she came out of the kitchen, smiling cheerfully. Apparently Mamako had kept to her promise of doing all the clean-up herself and Sakura had just been keeping her company. Seeing Sakura smile also made Shirou feel happier, and soon the evening was exactly the kind of enjoyable evening he’d originally been imagining when he cooked dinner, with everybody laughing and occasionally even shouting over rounds of UNO.

Saber unsurprisingly had a very competitive streak and held her cards very close, while Taiga was as sloppy and lucky as always. Meanwhile Sakura methodically used special cards to whittle down her hand without anybody noticing until she won, twice in a row. Saber won the third time, defiantly laying down her last card. After that the battles became more chaotic until finally Taiga slammed down her cards.

“Eep! It’s late! Sakura, I need to get you home!”

Sakura’s face, flushed from laughing, abruptly paled as she looked down at her watch. “Oh yes, I must go!” She jumped to her feet and scurried around getting together her things. Shaking his head at how they lost track of time, Shirou cleaned up the cards and then walked Taiga and Sakura to the door.

Taiga patted him on the shoulder before she left, saying happily, “I think everything will be fine now that Mamako is here. Saber-chan seems reliable, too. So don’t you worry about having such a pretty girl in the house, Shirou!”

“Well, I _wasn’t_,” muttered Shirou, although to be honest, the discussion of sleeping arrangements before he and Saber had gone out that day had made him a little uncomfortable. But Saber had been accommodating and he couldn’t imagine anything happening that would outrage the sensibilities of a woman like Mamako, no matter what Taiga thought.

When he returned to the living room, Saber and Mamako both sat at the table looking at each other, Saber measuringly and Mamako with a sweet smile.

Shirou hesitated, wondering if he was about to see sparks, and then said, “Mamako-san, would you like a bath first?”

“Oh!” said Mamako. “No, no, you should take your bath, Shirou-kun. You were so terribly injured last night that I’m sure you must still need some rest.” She pulled her mouth to one side in a half-pout. “I was worried at first when I stopped by this afternoon and you and Saber-san were both out. But then I realized that could only mean you’d healed very well indeed!”

Shirou bowed. “Yes, I’m all better. Tohsaka-san told me you’d helped tend to me after she brought me home last night and I can’t express my gratitude enough.”

“Letting me stay in your house seems like plenty,” she said seriously. “But where is Rin-san? I was surprised to see she wasn’t here tonight.”

Frowning, Shirou said, “She left this morning.” He considered how much more to tell her. He couldn’t imagine Tohsaka harming Mamako no matter what she knew about the war. But that Archer of hers was another story. That man didn’t seem to care who might get hurt in the course of the Holy Grail War, as long as his Master won.

Reluctantly, he added, “She said we would be enemies from here on. Please be careful if you see her around.”

Mamako looked bewildered. “But isn’t she your party member? Why would you be enemies?”

“Parties only have two members in the Grail War, madam,” said Saber. She frowned, her gaze going distant. “Although sometimes they do have… allies.”

Nodding, Mamako said, “Like me. I am certainly Shirou-kun’s ally. But I also feel like I should be Rin-san’s ally too. Well! I’ll have to think about this more. Meanwhile, why don’t you go take your bath, Shirou? Taiga already showed me to my room so you don’t need to worry about a thing there.”

Shirou obeyed, sighing as he internally bemoaned the loss of his solitary lifestyle.

_Dad, why didn't you ever teach me how to say 'no' to women?_


	8. Day 5 - Saber

Shirou walked away down the street, going off to school without Saber’s protection and without Saber’s approval. But she was a Servant, so Saber merely watched him until he turned a corner. Then, thoughtfully, she returned to the living room. Mamako worked in the kitchen, humming to herself, but came out when Saber turned on the television again. 

“Such scary things happening.” Mamako shook her head. “We’ll have to do something about it, won’t we, Saber-chan?”

Saber tore her gaze away from the news to stare at Mamako. “Madam, when you have time, would you accompany me to Shirou’s dojo?”

“Me? Oh my. I will, of course, but why?” Mamako gave Saber a puzzled little smile.

Her heart sinking a little at the other woman’s naiveté, Saber said, “I wish to evaluate your skill with those swords you carry. I need to know how well you can defend yourself before I can position you in this Grail War.”

Mamako’s expression became strange. “Oh! Of course. Well, I had a few things I wanted to take care of this morning first?”

Saber inclined her head. “When you’re ready. I will study the news until then.”

For an hour and a half, Mamako puttered around the house, spending some time in her new bedroom rearranging things to her tastes. Eventually, she came into the living room and said, “Saber-chan, would you help me move something?”

Saber, who had been wondering if she ought to nap, embraced the opportunity to be useful. “I’m at your service, madam.”

Mamako’s smile was dazzling. “Yay! First, we need to move this table…”

Soon the ordinary table in the living room had been replaced by a new table Mamako called a kotatsu, with a heavy blanket hanging from the edges. After plugging it in, Mamako said cheerfully, “Now you just sit there and enjoy the warmth while I make us some tea and snacks. You deserve a reward for helping out!”

Cautiously, Saber sat at the table, draping the blanket across her lap. The delicious warmth that enveloped her made her sigh in pleasure. While the February cold was certainly no hindrance to a Servant, that didn’t mean she liked it. A fireplace had been pleasant when she lived, but this… this was bliss. When Mamako placed a bowl of rice crackers on the table and served the tea, Saber finally lifted her head from her arms sleepily.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I wonder why Shirou-kun had it tucked away in a back room.” Mamako smiled fondly. “In fact, I think after our tea, we should take a nap right here.”

Saber ate some salty crackers and sipped her tea, which had a delicious roasted taste. “I would still like to test you in the dojo, madam.”

“Of course, of course,” said Mamako hurriedly. “But after a nap, yes? I still need to catch up on my sleep from the other night!”

There was something mysterious going on, Saber decided. But the kotatsu was so very nice that she couldn’t bring herself to argue. If Mamako couldn’t protect herself, she’d find out eventually one way or another. And so, after all the crackers vanished, Saber wriggled until more of the blanket covered her body and let herself drift off, while Mamako rested her head on her hands and did the same.

Abstract dreams of Shirou at his studies drifted through Saber’s dozing mind, while odd voices whispered around her head, arguing with the soft tones of Mamako. Then Mamako was speaking more loudly. “Time to wake up, Saber-chan.”

Blinking, Saber sat up, realizing she was alone under the kotatsu. Then Mamako touched her shoulder lightly and she turned to see that the other woman had changed her neat white dress for a different white dress. This one had a wide metal belt, almost a corset, with long metal panels protecting the back of her thighs. She also wore combination greaves and armored boots, and fluted blue elbow guards. At her right hip, two long, slim swords flickered with blue and orange light. 

“I’m ready for your test, Saber-chan,” said Mamako with a brittle brightness. “But perhaps we shouldn’t use the dojo. I wouldn’t want to damage such a nice space.”

Saber had known warriors who would have made that a boast, but Mamako seemed almost uncomfortable with the admission. It was obvious that she feared Saber’s test, and Saber thought she understood why.

“Madam, if you’re a novice with your weapons, that won’t prevent you from helping Shirou. I’m already planning on drilling him, and I can train you as well.” It would be a very  _ different _ training, admittedly. Shirou was no stranger to physical exertion, while it was clear Mamako had a soft, womanly body. She was clearly better suited to be a chatelaine than a knight.

And yet… those swords. Even resting quietly against Mamako’s hip, Saber could tell each was a Noble Phantasm of significant power. It was very strange.

“Oh… Umiko and Tsuchiko are old friends by now. I may be a hero’s mother instead of a hero, but I’ve become very comfortable with them.” She gave Saber a furtive sideways glance.

Taken aback by the hint of defiance in Mamako’s voice, Saber frowned and proceeded first to the dojo where she took a bokken, then outside to the most open part of the yard, where she materialized her own armor. Once Mamako had joined her and drawn her own weapons, Saber took up a combat stance. 

“Let us begin.”

Mamako gave her a wide-eyed look of confusion and lowered her blades. “You don’t mean for me to attack  _ you,  _ dear, do you? I thought there might be some target around here.” She glanced around. “Oh, I suppose not.” Her brow furrowed and she said, as if to herself, “No, no, I don’t want to chastise you. You’re a good girl.”

Saber gave an exasperated sigh. “I am a Servant and a knight, madam. Please trust I can defend myself from whatever you throw at me.”

Slowly Mamako shook her head. “Couldn’t we go find some monsters instead?”

“Absolutely not,” snapped Saber, wondering where she’d fought monsters before. “Not until I’ve seen you defend yourself, my lady. Prepare yourself!” She changed her stance, intending to leap across the intervening space and give the woman a very solid bruise if she didn’t respond. If she was as unskilled as she seemed, it would be a harsh blow, but no more than she deserved for carrying weapons she refused to use.

Mamako tilted her head in puzzlement. “Prepare myself for what?” 

Saber realized she hadn’t moved and the tip of her bokken had lowered. “I’m going to attack you!” 

“Oh! Oh… Really? Wouldn’t you rather go for a walk with me instead? Or I could go make some more tea. I found a very nice map of Fuyuki we could look at.” Mamako held both swords loosely in one hand as she tucked some hair behind her ear.

“A map… that sounds….” Saber shook her head. She’d just knock those blades out of Mamako’s hand and then, her pride and curiosity satisfied, she’d study this map.

Somehow she’d lowered her bokken further, her stance relaxing, which was how she finally realized she was being  _ affected _ by something. Did that armored dress Mamako had donned have magic of its own? Or was it Mamako herself? Whatever it was, it reached deep inside Saber, whispering that Mamako was harmless, whispering that she was an innocent to be protected, whispering that attacking her would be an outrage beyond reason.

It didn’t matter where it came from. Saber knew herself and her capabilities. She’d personally delivered a king’s justice on occasion, and she’d trained until killing her enemies was an instinct rather than a skill. She could overcome this odd restriction Mamako radiated now that she’d identified it.

Once again, she moved into a combat stance, breathing deeply as she focused, studying Mamako not as a person who’d given her those delicious salty snacks and that wonderful tea, not as a sweet, motherly woman whose face relaxed into childlike innocence when she dozed on that comfy kotatsu. 

Instead she saw Mamako as a stance  _ (weakly alert, slow, unbalanced) _ , some armor  _ (definitely magical, but a skilled swordsman could see and attack the weak points near her shoulders and legs) _ , those eyes  _ (so gentle, do not look into them) _ , that confused smile  _ (no, no, no)  _ and those swords  _ (earth and water aligned, powerful, but those blades weren’t striking edges) _ .

These things she could attack, to disable or destroy. And yet something else made Saber hesitate. 

Those swords. Were they swords at all? Those swords… had developed a definite hostile intent the woman herself utterly lacked. While Mamako was oblivious, the weapons themselves had picked up on the change in Saber’s mind state. The water sword Umiko shed blue light like rain, while Tsuchiko’s steady orange blaze formed a wider blade encasing the real one.

“Oh dear,” said Mamako, looking down at her weapons. “Um, Saber-chan. You’re making them unhappy. Let’s not do anything silly, everybody! Yes, you too, Umiko. Shall I send you to your room, young lady?”

Saber blinked and then realized Mamako was  _ threatening to send her sword to its room. _

She couldn’t help it. The sound of her belly laugh echoed off the high outer wall of the Emiya residence, bringing back memories of other times, so long ago, when she’d had both a reason to laugh and companions to laugh with.

Mamako beamed in response. “Yes, that’s much better. Let’s all be friends.”

With an effort of will, Saber gained control of herself. “You are no swordsman, madam. Believing you were was my mistake. Those swords might as well be a mage’s staff, I suspect.”

“Maybe?” said Mamako hopefully. “I don’t cast any spells with them, though.”

The bokken whistled as Saber slashed through the air. “Tell me what you do with them, other than throw yourself between seasoned warriors?”

Mamako considered the swords. “Well, Umiko’s very good at helping me wash up, and Tsuchiko is a demon for dusting. We’ve been planning to do some gardening in the spring, too. Oh, and they’re both very good at defeating enemies from a distance.” She giggled. “My son often complained they were  _ too _ good at that.”

Saber circled Mamako, studying her. “With all due respect to your son, madam, that’s a fool’s opinion. Defeating enemies from a distance is the safest choice for somebody in your role.”

Mamako’s eyes flashed. “Ma-kun is a fine young man. Besides, I dare you to find any young man who isn’t a fool sometimes.”

Saber conceded the point, although she’d known one or two in her time… but never mind that. “I will consider you as a specialized mage, then, if you continue to choose to assist Shirou and I. But this  _ is _ a war, madam. You might find yourself in some unpleasant situations. You yourself carry a potent protection, although I believe the mindless, insane or truly wicked would be unaffected by it.” She paused, remembering another war and its participants, and the insane and wicked among them, as well as the Master who had been neither but would have certainly been able to murder Mamako without the slightest hesitation.

He’d been a rare man, though, and he was gone now. She shook her head and went on.

“Enemy combatants such as Rin should not be able to hurt you. But that doesn’t mean you might not have to hurt  _ them _ to defend your allies. If you don’t believe you can do that, you must resign yourself to guarding the home.”

Mamako’s lips pushed out in a pout. “I won’t. If Rin makes bad choices, I shall definitely help her make better ones. And I won’t need Umiko or Tsuchiko either. But I’ve already seen these horrible insect monsters squirming around on my late night walks, and Tsuchiko is  _ wonderful _ for dealing with them.”

Saber paused her pacing as she met Mamako’s eyes. The woman had been oblivious before, but the steady determination that now radiated from her reminded Saber that Mamako was no young student seeking guidance, but a grown woman who had raised a child of her own. She could order Mamako to stay at home all she liked, but all that would mean was that Mamako would go out secretly and alone.

Shirou had already done that, and it still irked Saber. And unlike Shirou, Mamako had no claim on Saber’s obedience. Even if Mamako told her to stay behind, she could freely act according to her own judgement to best support her Master’s victory in the Holy Grail War.

She bowed. “Very well, madam. I would be honored to accompany you on any patrols you make, whenever Shirou has not commanded me to do otherwise.”

Mamako bounced on her toes, flexed her wrists and her swords vanished into thin air.  _ Back to their ‘room’ _ , Saber supposed, amusement once again tickling her.

Clapping her hands, Mamako said, “Yay! I’ve been looking forward to a walk all day!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to divide this chapter in half for reasons. Next part soon!


	9. Day 5 - Mamako

Mamako stood at the base of the many steps leading up to Ryuudou Temple, looking up the slope with her hands on her hips and a smile on her lips. It had been a long time since she’d visited a temple and even longer since she’d visited a new one. It only seemed right as a new resident that she visit Fuyuki’s temple, so once she’d studied the map she’d found, she’d unerringly directed their ‘walk’ there. 

Saber had been good, if quiet, company, commenting seriously on everything Mamako pointed out. It had taken quite a bit of work and frivolous chatter for Mamako to pull another smile from the young woman. But now Saber stood beside her with a more pensive expression on her face.

“Oh, Saber-chan, you’re not afraid of the steps, are you?” Mamako teased. “You’ve made it this far. Don’t you want to see the temple?”

But Saber’s response was unexpectedly curt. “There is something bad at this temple, madam. I think we should return to Shirou’s house.”

“Hmm,” said Mamako, looking up the steps. “But aren’t we patrolling to find bad things?”

Saber gave her an exasperated look. “I thought we were on a stroll to see the sights of Fuyuki.”

“Oh, that too, of course! They’re not mutually exclusive, you know!” She put a foot on the first step and Saber caught her arm.

“I’m very serious, madam. Something dangerous lurks up there.”

Mamako gave her a twinkling smile. “Then I’ll have a chance to show you my swords, won’t I? But it’s a temple, Saber-chan. There are priests who pray and chant every day. Are you sure that’s not what you’re detecting? Given how far away you were born, maybe you’re just not used to that feeling.”

Saber released Mamako’s arm, her hand curling into a fist. She shook her head wordlessly. 

“Hmm?” Mamako said, considering Saber, and remembering what she’d done when her son had been mysteriously recalcitrant as a child. “If you want, you can wait down here. I’ll make sure to bring you back a souvenir!”

“That I will not do,” said Saber grimly, and Mamako tried to hide her smile. “I will go on ahead of you to intercept whatever awaits us.”

“We could make it a race,” said Mamako encouragingly. That had often worked with her son, back when her legs were longer than his.

With the sudden tang of ozone, Saber’s armor appeared on her. “I think not. I shall see you when you catch up.”

Then Saber blurred and vanished up the steps in a metallic clatter, moving far faster than humanly possible. Mamako blinked and said, “Oh my goodness. These heroes…” and then started climbing the stairs at a much more ordinary pace.

As she went, she chatted with her two swords, stopping at one point to poke Tsuchiko into the earth beside the steps so the sword could get a taste of the mountain. But before she could get Tsuchiko’s opinion, a clang of metal shivered down the steps. Mamako recognized the sound of swords against swords these days, even if she didn’t have much personal experience with that kind of conflict.

“Oh no!” she said, flicked Tsuchiko away, and ran up the stairs. Like Saber, she’d changed to her ordinary clothes for their walk. Unlike Saber, she couldn’t don her armor with a thought. It was all stored carefully in a special suitcase Shirase had provided when they discovered only the swords had their own invisible rooms to live in when unneeded.

_“I believe it’s because it’s much more interesting to watch a woman take off and put on her clothes than it is to watch her draw her sword, so of course a suitcase would be needed,” _Shirase had said, with a little giggle hidden behind her hand. The younger woman had become such a good friend and Mamako missed her almost as much as Ma-kun on this new adventure.

As Mamako’s breath shortened, she heard a masculine laugh and the rushing wind of Saber’s blade. Then she finally bobbed up enough to catch sight of the samurai in traditional purple garb battling Saber right before the gate. On the other side of the gate stood a woman in purple and black, with a hood hiding her face and and a cloak disguising her form.

Mamako came to a stop, pursing her lips as she looked over the other woman. Those were sinister colors she’d chosen, no doubt, but perhaps because of the brightness of the afternoon, they made Mamako think of protective coloration.

Saber and the samurai exchanged another round of blows, drawing Mamako’s attention. She concentrated, trying to determine if this was a fight she ought to interrupt like she had the fight between Saber and Archer. She’d learned from her son, eventually, that sometimes people preferred to finish their battles on their own. As long as nobody was getting hurt, Mamako tried to respect this.

The samurai sprang back from Saber after twisting away from her invisible blade, and spared a smile for Mamako. His words, though, seemed to be for the other woman. “And now we have two beautiful flowers at the gate, Caster. Would you really have me pluck them both?”

Mamako shifted her weight, clasping her hands behind her back. Though she suspected the samurai’s words had been a threat, the reference to plucking flowers reminded her of Hero-sama, whom she felt would be implying something entirely different with the same phrase.

“Enough,” said the woman called Caster, her voice as sharp as the samurai’s sword. “Sheath your blade, Saber, and my Assassin will sheath his.”

“Oh, yes,” said Mamako brightly, favoring Caster with a sweet smile. “What a good idea.”

Caster’s hooded head turned toward Mamako. “Saber’s Master, I presume.”

Mamako tilted her head. “Why yes, Saber and I are partners today! And who might you be? Heroes in training?”

The hood shivered. “Please. I am hardly a _hero_. Saber? Will you sheath your blade and listen to me?  Or shall I, perhaps…” With a shocking suddenness, an array of magical circles appeared in the air around Caster, a half-dozen, a dozen, two dozen, all forming another strange arcane shape in the gray afternoon sky. Each one lit up with the energy coursing through it.

“…end it my way? This is my territory. Your Master is right there. It would be so easy.”

“Then why haven’t you?” demanded Saber, still holding her invisible blade in her mailed fists. “There’s only one victor in the Holy Grail War, and you know it.”

Caster’s smile was visible under the shadow of her hood. “Ah, if we had only that before us. Put away your weapon before I get bored.”

“Saber,” said Mamako in her best no-nonsense voice. “The nice lady wants to talk to us. Behave or I won’t make snacks later.”

Caster’s head jerked around once more to stare at Mamako and the samurai laughed outright as he sheathed his blade. “I believe our hands have been properly slapped, Saber. I hope we can finish this another time.” With a bow, he faded away.

Saber gave Mamako a sidelong glance, and Mamako added, “But if you’re a good girl, I’ll make some special onigiri…”

Looking interested and then disgusted with herself, Saber flicked her blade away and opened her hands. “Madam, I am a—”

“Oh, never mind,” said Caster impatiently. “Argue with your mother later. A terrible storm approaches and the wise batten down the hatches before the blow begins. Those who survive it will have a chance at the Grail. I suggest if you wish to renew your battle with my Assassin, you find a way to ward yourself and your own.”

Saber studied Caster. “You wish for us to deal with this storm, whatever it is, for you. While you do… what?”

But Caster only smiled as she said, “I’ve given you this warning out of the kindness of my heart. Disregard it at your own risk. Please enjoy your journey home.” Then she vanished just as the samurai had.

“Oh my,” said Mamako, peering up at the hazy gray sky. “A storm? Do you think she means a blizzard? That would be exciting! I’ll check the weather report when we get home.”

“A moment before you go, blossoms,” came the samurai’s amused voice as he rematerialized. “That stubborn Caster leaves too much to chance in her pride, so I will tell you this: a most dangerous figure went around the temple to the lake recently, carrying an unconscious young girl with her. Her intentions were decidedly… malevolent, so much so that even I shuddered. Alas, I am bound to this gate, so what could I do?”

Mamako’s eyes widened. “Telling us was the right thing, young man. Is this the path here? Thank you.” She _knew_ that, despite being some sort of hero, Saber would argue if Mamako didn’t take prompt action, so she stepped onto the woodland path and began marching. After a moment, without looking back, she held out her hands and brought both Umiko and Tsuchiko to her hands.

Mailed footsteps clanked behind her, and Mamako said, “I know you worry, Saber-chan. But I’m not going to leave a young girl in the hands of _anybody_ malevolent, not while there’s breath in my body. And with a blizzard coming, too! Unthinkable!”

“Yes, madam,” said Saber. “I would be ashamed to do otherwise.”

Mamako looked over her shoulder in surprise and found Saber only a few steps behind her. She smiled, pausing just enough for Saber to catch up. “Perhaps, like with Caster-san, it will turn out to be a misunderstanding.”

“I doubt it,” said Saber gravely. “Assassin—and how is such a warrior Assassin, I wonder? would not have been mistaken about such. I hope you are prepared to use those weapons.”

“Yes, of course,” said Mamako cheerfully. “Oh look at that lake! How very pretty.”

As they tromped together down the trail, the forest became more and more peaceful. The bare trees sketched shapes like writing against the sky, while the lake made the gray sky blue in its reflection. Beyond the lake more trees covered the far descent, and although mostly hazed by fog, there was just a hint of a view of the outskirts beyond Fuyuki.

A small sign drew Mamako’s attention away from the lake. “Oh. There’s a graveyard ahead.”

“Does that worry you, madam?” 

“Oh, no, no. I’m not afraid of ghosts or anything silly like that. But it seems disrespectful to use Tsuchiko in such a place.” She contemplated the earth blade. 

“There it is,” said Saber, and a new tension entered her voice as the trail curved and the graveyard came into view. At a casual glance it looked like a pleasant meadow, with plenty of empty space yet to be filled. But off to one side, near the wooded edge, a wide space had been cleared as if by an over-industrious gardener, or perhaps a power like Tsuchiko’s. In the center of the cleared area was a crumpled form.

“There!” Mamako’s dash forward was curtailed by Saber once again catching her arm. 

“Wait! I see the girl but not whoever brought her here. Nor do I understand what she is being used for, other than perhaps bait.” Saber looked around carefully and then glanced at Mamako’s puffed out cheeks. “All right. I have some resistance to most forms of magic, so I will go and recover the girl. You must use your ranged attacks to support me, do you understand? While bearing the girl I will be vulnerable.”

“Yes, yes. Please go, Saber. The poor thing could be hurt, or… or worse!” Mamako’s heart thudded in her chest. There was something awful around how the figure in the clearing didn’t seem to be moving. If the child had been hurt, Mamako would be so _angry_.

When Saber nodded and released her, she lifted Umiko and Tsuchiko into her ready position. She watched as Saber moved cautiously closer to the cleared ground.

“There’s a magic circle here,” called Saber. “Something troubling is definitely occurring.” With a significant look at Mamako, she crossed the boundary.

Instantly, shapes began pulling themselves out of the ground within the clearing: inky silhouettes that reminded Mamako of lions. She didn’t wait to see what they’d do, but slashed down first Tsuchiko and then Umiko. Spikes sprang from the ground beneath the nearer group of shadow monsters, before a blue wave of elemental water slammed into them. 

At the same time, Saber ceased moving carefully, dashing to the crumpled figure and hoisting it over her shoulder. Mamako couldn’t concentrate on her after that, as the shadow monsters were still moving after her first round of attacks. Gripping the swords more tightly, she slashed again and watched in satisfaction as the shadows dissolved back into the graveyard where they belonged.

_Feel weak… _said Umiko. _Magic lake is whispering to me…_

“You’re doing fine!” said Mamako encouragingly. Saber dashed toward her, pursued by another batch of those nasty monsters. Concentrating on the monsters so hard she barely saw Saber, Mamako slashed again. Once again spikes from the ground slammed into the creatures, but this time the wave broke into the sky and fell as blue drops of cleansing power.

As soon as Saber stepped over the outer boundary of the magic circle, two more batches of monsters appeared within. More shockingly, the circle itself came to life. White ribbon-like lines suddenly danced off the ground as the circle seemed to unweave itself.

Saber deposited the dark-haired girl on the ground beside Mamako and pulled her invisible sword into her hands. “She’s alive for now. If we can get her out of here that may continue, but I fear that whatever has been started here will need further disruption—Mamako!”

Mamako had glanced down at the girl, who looked around Shirou’s age. She was so very pale, though, and she had suspicious raised welts on her neck.

Then as Saber shouted, sweeping her invisible blade around, Mamako felt her swords pull her arms together, crossing the blades in front of her as those strange white lines dove toward her, flanked by two packs of monsters.

“Eek!” Mamako pushed the swords out and down, calling up another sequence of spikes and water. It barely slowed one of the packs down. Saber slashed once again at the white ribbons, and they peeled away. Pivoting gracefully, Saber leapt into the midst of the closest pack and efficiently tore it apart.

Then the white ribbons had wrapped around the blades of Tsuchiko and Umiko. “No!” shouted Mamako, yanking on them.

_No,_ agreed Umiko in a stronger voice. But the white ribbons spiraled down the blades and agony opened up in Mamako’s palms.

Angrily, she slashed each blade. Whatever the white ribbons were doing, it wasn’t stopping the swords from working. If anything, they now seemed stronger and more alert, and the spikes and wavelets assaulted the monsters Saber wasn’t dealing with. But her hands hurt so much that tears ran down her face. 

“Leave my swords alone!” shouted Mamako. “They’re my precious _souvenirs!”_

Yet another pair of shadow packs hauled themselves from the now animated circle. Saber leapt back to Mamako, her invisible blade slashing uselessly through the white ribbons. “We’re not alone. Whatever made that circle is still here, sending it against us. If I can free you, you _must_ run, madam.” Saber’s expression was so stern that Mamako couldn’t imagine arguing with her. 

“Please don’t let them take my swords!”

_Nobody will take us, Mamako. We’re getting stronger and stronger, thanks to you…_

A horrible fear uncurled in Mamako’s stomach, worse than anything she’d felt for years and years. She didn’t even know what she was afraid _of,_ only that she felt suddenly that something born of love and bonding would be warped toward evil ends.

Saber’s breath hissed between her teeth as she dispatched the closest shadow monsters. “Can you put the swords away, madam?”

Yes! That suddenly seemed like a very good idea! If Umiko and Tsuchiko were safe in their rooms, they couldn’t be stolen _or_ corrupted! But when Mamako tried to twist her wrists in that little movement that sent them off, she screamed in agony at the pain in her hands. It felt like the ribbons were pulling out her tendons and she realized her own blood was soaking the handles of the swords. Sobbing, she collapsed to her knees.

_We’ll take care of everything_, _Mamako_, said the normally taciturn Tsuchiko, and Mamako thought she felt the earth tremble.

Then from somewhere overhead, a cool, familiar voice said, “I could hear you screaming all the way down the mountain, woman.”

Mamako lifted her teary gaze and saw Hero-sama standing high above on the air itself, as upon an invisible platform. He wore his black jacket, his golden hair falling in one ruby eye, and he had his arms crossed as he gazed down at them. 

“Didn’t I tell you that sword—swords? You little wretch—were too much for you?”

“_Archer_,” gasped Saber. _“How_—is this _your_ doing, Archer?”

Hero-sama gave Mamako’s companion only a dismissive curl of the lip before a dozen glowing portals opened beyond his shoulders. His gaze swept down to the newest batch of monsters and a rain of weapons, each one as unique as Mamako’s own, impaled them from the sky.

“Ah!” said a new voice, feminine this time. A second figure appeared in the air and the white ribbons finally loosed themselves from Mamako’s blades. “That will do very nicely, King of Heroes.”

The white ribbons rocketed to the open portals, penetrating within them, but Hero-sama only barked with laughter. “That accomplishes nothing, mongrel.” Each portal vanished and the white ribbons fell limply to the ground.

Mamako blinked away tears and looked more closely at the new woman. She’d seen her before. The woman had long, dark hair tipped with pink, a black gown, and she held a pale-haired horned child on one hip. “Yes, you’ve certainly shown us,” said the woman, and laughed. “You did see, didn’t you, my child?”

“Uh-huh,” said the little girl, and hugged her green-haired dolly. “Done now.”

“Yes, you’re right. Goodbye, King of Heroes. Thank you so much for your assistance. Mind your pet doesn’t get infected.” With those final words, the woman and the child vanished. The clearing was silent save for the whistle of wind, and then Hero-sama landed quietly on the beaten grass.

With a sardonic raised eyebrow, his gaze swept over Saber before coming to rest on Mamako. “I see you’re underfoot once again, Saber. And once again you have failed to protect the most valuable piece on the field.”


	10. Day 5 - Mamako (next)

A chill wind whistled among the memorial stones of the mountain graveyard as Mamako stared down at her bloody hands clenched around her swords’ hilts. Droplets of blood had splashed onto her dress. Too much had happened, too quickly, and between the pain and the chill, she was having a little trouble processing.

“_Archer_,” cried Saber furiously, her invisible blade brandished in the direction of the golden-haired man who had just landed lightly on the ground.

Wincing, Mamako tried to lift herself to her feet. Clearly Saber knew and disliked Hero-sama. His class _was_ Archer, she distantly recalled. Her hands hurt so very much, and she couldn’t send her precious swords away to their pocket space. The thought of Saber and Hero-sama quarreling as well was simply too much to bear.

“Aaah!” It was so… so _silly_ that moving her legs sent agony shooting through her hands. So _stupid_. As her legs collapsed beneath her again, she cried, “Oh, no, please don’t. You’re both such nice people.”

They both stared at her in disbelief before Saber said, “Madam, you _must_ be mistaking him for somebody else.”

Hero-sama walked toward Mamako as she tried and failed once again to dismiss her swords. “I’d say pain has made her insensible, but every time I meet her, she says something like that.” When Saber dashed between him and Mamako, raising her invisible blade with a growl, he added, “I suppose you can’t avoid being a mongrel but you don’t have to be a stupid one. Get out of my way.”

Saber narrowed her eyes at Hero-sama, assessing his intentions, before glancing back at Mamako. Then she huffed and lowered her weapon, but pointedly did not sheath it.

It was a point Hero-sama ignored. Without giving Saber a second glance, the golden-haired young man walked past her and crouched down before Mamako. She blinked back tears that just kept welling up, too dazed by pain to understand what to do. She knew she had to put the swords away, but she couldn’t move her hands right.

Hero-sama snapped his fingers and opened his hand. A small brownish roll of cloth dropped from a gleam in the air as he acidly said, “I had other plans for our next meeting, woman. And yet it is so like you to wreck them on behalf of an idiot mongrel child. Put down the swords.”

“N-no!” said Mamako, her hands instinctively tightening on the hilts. It felt like thorns digging into her palms and she gasped, but managed to add, “You can’t have them! I won’t let you take them.”

_He can try, Mamako…_ said Umiko, once again sounding sleepy.

“Tch,” said Hero-sama impatiently. “If I wanted them, I wouldn’t wait for you to put them down first.” His eyes burned as she stared up at him in confused defiance. “_Open your hands._”

The command seemed to bypass Mamako’s brain, going straight to her nerves and tendons. She yelped as her hands opened and the swords fell to the ground, leaving a bone-deep dull ache under the steady throb of ripped flesh. Fresh blood welled from the multiple incisions on her bruise-purpled palms, further staining her dress.

“Oh dear,” she mumbled, staring down at her palms. “How will I do dishes like this?” She felt dizzy and cold, and she kept losing track of where she was versus where she thought she ought to be. She knew she _definitely_ had to do dishes so Shirou could spend time with Sakura, though.

Hero-sama snorted, his mouth twisting in disgust as he took one of her inflamed hands in his own. “You won’t. That’s what menials and those mongrel children you collect are for. ”

Despite his words and harsh expression, he inspected her hand gently. His cool touch momentarily distracted her from the worst of the pain as he pushed each of her fingers towards her palm. Only pushing her ring finger made her cry out at the jolt of pain. He gave a tiny nod after the other fingers, but pulled his lips away from his teeth in the quickest wince when he hurt her. Then, with a shake of his head, he began to wind the roll of brown cloth around her hand. He used a firm wrap, but as the fabric pressed into her palm, the worst of the pain faded

When Saber muttered something in an amazed tone under her breath, Hero-sama’s mouth twisted. “Don’t press your luck, mongrel.”

He put the first of Mamako’s hands in her lap and reached for her other. She stared in fascination at his golden eyelashes until they swept up and she saw the simmering anger in his eyes. Flustered, her own gaze dropped. His expression reminded her of her son when he was annoyed by her stupidity. But instead of making her embarrassed and sad, it made her feel… warm—not that he thought her stupid, but that he cared enough to be annoyed by it.

Unwillingly, she found herself remembering in vivid detail how he’d kissed her _(his hands on the sides of her head, his mouth hard and demanding) _and told her she was his. It was foolish of her to put any weight in the words of a schoolboy, even one clearly as accomplished as Hero-sama. And it was _horrible_ of her to be thinking of that in the current circumstances. She felt certain that was true even if she couldn’t _quite_ remember the current circumstances. She’d remember in a moment. It was just the cold, and the way her head spun as he began to examine her other hand.

Both her first and third finger drew agonized gasps from her as he bent them, and he spent an additional moment examining her first finger before again wrapping her hand. After he’d completed that, he tore off a tiny piece of cloth, rubbed it between his finger and thumb and then put his thumb against her lips. “Lick,” he commanded.

Mamako’s eyes flew up to meet his uncertainly, but she saw none of the heat she’d seen in the chocolate shop, only a gem-like hardness. So she parted her lips and gave a tiny lick. His thumb tasted like honey and rosemary, with a hint of ginger, and she instinctively licked a second time. After that he pulled his hand away, watching her closely as the clouds in her mind cleared with stunning rapidity and warmth chased away the chill of the graveyard wind.

She blinked at him and then looked down at her hands, each one neatly wrapped in brown bandages. The agony of only a few minutes previous now seemed like a bad dream. Shyly she said, ”Thank you. They hurt much less now.”

Absently he licked his thumb himself as his ruby eyes narrowed. “Woman, mere words aren’t nearly sufficient to repay the use of the King’s own healing salve.”

An irrepressible smile curved Mamako’s mouth and she twinkled at him as she said, “So I shouldn’t bother? But I really ought to model good manners for young people like you and Saber-chan, you know.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched as he stared at her. Abruptly, he stood up, still staring at her as if making a decision. Mamako remained sitting, although she shifted position so she could rise more easily without using her hands. Glancing over at the unconscious form of the girl Saber had rescued, she added, “Is it possible you could help the girl the way you helped me?”

He gave the girl a quick, disinterested glance. “If she goes to a hospital, she’ll probably recover. Fluids, transfusions. They have those there.” He frowned. “Her magic circuits… no. Nevermind. If she does live, she might become interesting, but if she doesn’t, that may be for the best.”

That sent Mamako shooting her feet unsteadily. “Hero-sama!”

But he wasn’t chastised by her tone of voice. Instead he caught her chin. “Life is hard, Mamako. Coddling the weak does them no favors.”

She pulled her head away from his hand, puffing out her cheeks in a disapproving pout. “Protecting children isn’t coddling the weak, _Hero-sama_. It’s guarding the future.” Then, snubbing him, she crouched down and awkwardly picked up her swords. She still couldn’t move her wrists in the dismissal gesture, but she could at least transport them. “Saber-chan, I saw how strong you were earlier. Would you carry the girl down the mountain path?”

“Of course, madam,” said Saber in a subdued voice. Without difficulty, she slung the girl over her shoulder and moved past Hero-sama, who stood watching with his hands in his pockets and an angry light in his ruby eyes.

The breeze blew Mamako’s hair in her face and she struggled to tuck it away while carrying her swords. As she did, she noticed how stiffly Hero-sama stood against the wind. She gave a little sigh as her heart softened. Isolating people only taught them that they were alone. So as Saber moved past her toward the path, she said brightly, “Hero-sama, will you walk down the path with us? It’s so very pretty, and who knows what adventures we might stumble into.”

“Tch,” he said again, crossing his arms. “I do not walk beside mongrels.”

“Well then,” said Mamako reasonably, for she’d already figured out he and Saber didn’t get along. “Walk beside me, like you did yesterday.”

To her surprise, this invitation seemed to further infuriate him. He turned to stalk away, calling, “Take her away, Saber, before I get bored and kill you both.”

“Madam,” called Saber urgently, and Mamako stopped staring after Hero-sama in bewilderment to see Saber cradling the girl in her arms as if about to put her down.

Refocusing, Mamako hurried over to her. “Is something wrong?”

“Not… yet,” said Saber slowly, straightening again as she watched Hero-sama walk away. “Or rather, the situation might be much worse.” She sighed, looking down at the girl. “I wanted to ask him for any information he might share about that strange woman, or the ritual this girl was used in, but… I’m sure that would be useless now.”

“He does seem like he’s sulking about something,” agreed Mamako. “But young men do, you know.” She brushed her fingertips over the unconscious girl’s forehead and found her skin much too cool. Anxiously, Mamako added, “Oh, I wish I hadn’t lost my temper. I’m sure he could have carried her to a hospital very quickly with that flying spell.”

“But would he have?” asked Saber, furrowing her brow.

Mamako tilted her head, smiling a little as she looked down. “He wrapped my hands.”

Saber’s gaze clouded. “That is true. I did not expect… but I don’t know why else…” She trailed off, thinking, and they began to walk down the path. After a few moments, she said, “Madam, why do you call him Hero-sama? Did he save you from something?”

“Oh, no, he told me that was his title. The King of Heroes,” Mamako said cheerfully. She held her swords like they were a bundle of firewood, which meant her hands hardly hurt at all.

She realized she was walking alone after a moment. When she looked over her shoulder, Saber was standing still, her eyes wide. “Saber-chan?”

The blond girl shook her head and caught up quickly despite her burden. “The King of Heroes? You mean the one known as Gilgamesh?”

“Gilgamesh,” mused Mamako. “Gilgamesh. He didn’t tell me his real name, but that does suit him. What kind of name is it?”

Saber hesitated a moment and then seemed to settle on, “A very old one.”

They continued down the path, lost in their own thoughts, until Mamako noticed that Saber was chewing on her lip, as if she had something on her mind.

“Do you need a break, Saber-chan?” she asked in concern. “I can’t carry her as easily as you, but if you help me get her on my back—”

“No, no, madam. It’s not that. Only—” She faltered.

“Oh, please tell me,” said Mamako worriedly.

Saber took a deep breath. “Do you—” She stopped again, looking more upset by the moment. Finally she asked, “Do you _really_ think my manners are as bad as his?”

[the memory is nightless]

Two-thirds of the way back to the temple steps, Archer—the red Archer, from Rin’s party—materialized before them to demand, “What is this?” Two long steps brought him close enough to see the face of Saber’s burden and his brow darkened. “Ayako.” He glared at Mamako. “Good grief, what have you done now?”

Saber kept walking along as she said calmly, “Go on up the mountain and see for yourself.”

“I have,” snapped Archer. “Give her to me, you look ridiculous.”

Silently, Saber let the tall white-haired man take the teenage girl in his arms. Mamako noticed he held her as carefully as Saber had and said, “Do you know her, Archer?”

“She’s a friend of Rin’s,” he said shortly. “And of that brat you’re so fond of. She needs medical care.” He seemed about to move away before pausing, casting an eye over Mamako. “What happened to your hands?” Without giving her a chance to answer, he asked, “Saber, shall I call a doctor for her as well?”

Umiko whispered, _I like that man, Mamako…._

Startled, Mamako looked down at her sword, who hadn’t even been fond of her son. “You do?” she whispered. But the sword said no more.

Saber hesitated and then shook her head. “_That one_ would have said something if she needed one, I’m sure.”

Archer’s eyebrows went up but he only said, “Tell me later,” and hurried ahead of them to the temple gates with long, smooth strides while Saber kept too Mamako’s pace.

“He forgets we are enemies,” Saber said, sounding annoyed.

Reasonably, Mamako said, “Why would you let an enemy carry off Ayako?”

“Just because I’m at war with somebody doesn’t mean I believe them to be dishonorable, madam,” said Saber stiffly.”

Pretending she hadn’t heard that, Mamako said, “I don’t think you’re really enemies. You just haven’t worked out how to be friends yet. But I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“Madam, that’s _not_ how this war works. We did explain it to you—”

“Well, maybe we can fix that too. That samurai was working with Caster, after all.” She mused. “Was that woman with the child part of the war, do you think?”

Saber frowned. “I… don’t know. There are too many irregularities. I don’t know why there are two Archers. Are there two of other classes? I don’t know.”

They came out of the forest near the temple gate and Mamako saw some men loading Ayako into an ambulance far below at the base of the steps. She nodded firmly. “Good. But where did Rin’s Archer go?”

Saber shifted uneasily, glancing up at the clouded sky. “I can’t sense him nearby. Madam, let’s go home. I wouldn’t like Shirou to return and not find us there.”

“What a good thought! And I did promise you some onigiri, didn’t I?” Mamako watched in amusement as Saber flushed. “I’m sure you’re hungry after all that effort. I certainly am!”

They arrived home about an hour before anybody else, which was plenty of time to change clothes and to make tea, which Mamako had no trouble preparing, and onigiri, which were harder. If she was honest, they made her hands ache so much tears sprang to her eyes. But then she found a rice mold in the back of a cupboard and the surge of panic at the thought of making bad onigiri faded. After their snack, she lingered at the table so long there were still dirty dishes when Taiga and Sakura arrived.

Sakura greeted her cheerfully as Mamako finished stacking the dishes in the sink. “Fujimura-sensei asked for stew today, so I’m going to get that started. I hope you had a good day today, Oosuki-san?”

Mamako tucked her hands behind her back, recalling that Shirou wanted her to be careful about talking about magic and the Holy Grail War around Taiga and Sakura. “Oh yes. Saber and I went for a walk this afternoon and I saw the temple. It’s so peaceful there! But I should get out of your way, unless you’d like some help in the kitchen?”

With a sunny smile, Sakura said, “No, ma’am! You’ve already volunteered to do the dishes so I can have a pleasant evening with Senpai. If you walked up to the temple, you must be tired. Go relax for a while?”

Mamako smiled back, pleased that she’d managed to befriend the girl. It really was too bad that Shirou seemed oblivious of both his kohai’s feelings for him and whatever troubled Sakura at her home, but he was a good boy and she a good girl. She hoped it would work out. Meanwhile, Mamako would do what she could to make sure Shirou didn’t get too distracted by all the other lovely young ladies around him.

Shirou arrived home an hour after Sakura, bringing Rin with him. Mamako, looking toward the kitchen, saw the puzzled, worried look on Sakura’s face as she saw Rin.

“I invited Rin over for dinner,” Shirou announced, and then glanced at Sakura. “Shall I come help you finish up?”

“What’s this?” demanded Taiga suspiciously. “How many girls are you going to bring home, Shirou? I didn’t bring you up to—” The teacher spent five minutes lecturing her student before abruptly changing gears. “Please don’t let this one take advantage of you, Rin. Now, I hope you like stew! Sakura-chan’s making it at my request!”

Dinner with so many strong personalities was predictably chaotic, which Mamako took advantage of to hide how much trouble she had with her chopsticks. Only Saber paid attention to her problems, and if anybody noticed the brown bandages on Mamako’s hands, they didn’t mention it.

She thought only Shirou saw them, and he didn’t ask. Certainly Taiga was too busy gushing over the food, while Rin and Sakura kept staring at each other when the other wasn’t looking. And when Mamako couldn’t finish even the small serving she took, because the pain made her nauseous, Saber took pity on her and stole the last of her food so that Sakura wouldn’t be hurt.

As soon as her bowl was empty, Mamako stood up and said brightly, “There’s still dishes from lunch, so I’ll get those started. Please entertain your guests properly, Shirou!”

Rin said impatiently, “We don’t have—”

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy doing something with Sakura as well,” said Mamako firmly. The expression on Rin’s face, half-annoyance, half uncertainty, strengthened Mamako’s suspicions. She didn’t know what connection the two girls had—estranged cousins, maybe? But this was clearly an opportunity for them to put past grievances aside.

In the kitchen, some of the stew remained in the cooking pot. Mamako found a storage container for it and filled it, before having an idea. Then, thoughtfully, she added some rice and some chopsticks and carried it through the living room and to the residence’s door.

“Hey, what are you doing with my stew?” called Taiga, who had already had three helpings.

“I’m putting it beside the door for Rin to take home,” said Mamako breezily and hurried away from the one-woman uproar this triggered. Rin and Shirou would just have to handle it.

Stepping outside the house into the dimly lit yard, she called softly, “Archer? Are you here somewhere?”

The night was still and silent, without even the afternoon’s wind. After a moment, she added, “I have dinner for you. Sakura, who is a very nice girl, made it.”

The red-coated Archer materialized in front of her, startling her even though she expected it. He caught the covered food container as it jumped from her hands. “Servants don’t need food, you know.”

“Don’t they?” asked Mamako curiously. “Saber certainly likes it.”

“Hah!” said Archer, which didn’t mean much since the next thing he did was open the container and sniff. “Very well, I’ll eat this. What do you want?”

“Do you have any news about Ayako?” Mamako studied this man that her sword Umiko liked. What lurked under the surface of his unfriendly demeanor?

Archer concentrated on eating for a few moments, taking the time to savor his meal. Then he nodded and said absently, “Sakura did well. And Ayako is recovering.” He narrowed his eyes. “I still want answers from you about what happened, though.”

“Why didn’t you come and ask them earlier?”

“Hmph. Because Rin called for me. They had an adventure after school today. She’ll tell you about it later, I’m sure.” He gave Mamako a cynical look. “She trusts you. I have no idea why.”

“Because I’m a very trustworthy person,” said Mamako practically. “Which reminds me, I have dishes to do!” She waved cheerfully and turned to go in.

“With those hands?” Archer asked, but Mamako ignored him to hurry through the door.

Back in the living room, the table had been cleared, the girls were counting out cards, and a pile of dishes filled the sink. Shirou stood before it, getting ready to scrub them.

“No, Shirou,” Mamako scolded. “You have something else to do.”

Shirou met her gaze steadily, without glancing once at her hands. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Go have fun with Sakura and Rin!”

Sighing, Shirou pulled something out from under the sink: a package of pink kitchen gloves. “I got these for Sakura but she refused to use them. I hope you will, Oosuki-san.”

Touched and grateful, Mamako bowed to him before shooing him away. The gloves were exactly what she needed, she told herself. She could keep Gilgamesh’s wrappings dry, and have another layer of padding between her palms and the scrubbing.

That’s what she wanted to believe, anyhow. The truth was that the gloves hardly mattered. By the time she realized the bandages were soaked and falling apart, she’d also realized there was no going back. Why stop when she’d already ruined Gilgamesh’s treatment? Yes, her hands hurt, but the gloves at least kept things clean, and the young people in the other room were laughing and enjoying themselves.

She concentrated hard on that: the laughter and the sounds of merriment, until the world narrowed to dishes, pain, water and the pleasure of children she thus enabled. A small part of her mind heard Umiko, tucked in a closet, scolding her more and more insistently. The sword could easily do dishes for her, and wanted to. But the sink was in plain view of the living room, so she _couldn’t_ let Umiko help her while Sakura and Taiga were present.

Then the doorbell chimed. The laughter faded and then stopped abruptly. Mamako struggled to refocus on what was going on, but once again her hands hurt too much to make quick sense of her surroundings. She counted the dishes she had left. Four bowls and a pot. It had been such a simple dinner. How could she not be done yet?

“Where is Mamako?” demanded a familiar voice from the hall and a thrill of absolute horror jolted Mamako to full awareness, the adrenaline even damping the pain in her palms. She looked around wildly, saw Gilgamesh entering the living room from the corner of her eye, and ducked down behind the half-wall between the two spaces, her heart pounding in panic.

Absolute silence reigned on the other side of the wall.

Shirou broke it with an uncertain, “Um… How do you know her, sir?”

“I don’t think Mamako wishes to see you, King of Heroes,” said Saber firmly.

“Tch—” said Rin and Gilgamesh, almost simultaneously.

Realizing what an idiot she’d made of herself, Mamako took her dishtowel and slowly rose up with it obscuring her gloves. Gilgamesh stood on the far side of the table, Saber once again having placed herself between him and Mamako. Taiga looked annoyed and puzzled, while Sakura stared hard at the table. Rin and Shirou stood on either side of Gilgamesh watching him warily.

Breathlessly, Mamako said, “I’m so sorry, I dropped this! Oh, I see you have another guest, shall I make some tea?”

Very quietly, in a voice that brought a wind to Saber’s hand, Gilgamesh said, “_What are you doing?”_

_“_I just said! Making tea!” said Mamako brightly, her head spinning. She turned away to find the teapot, and then stopped, suddenly brutally aware that if she picked it up, she’d drop it.

Archer’s voice came from the entrance. “Good grief, what’s going on in here? Hey, Mamako, your sword won’t shut up about those dishes you’re doing.”

Mamako turned so fast she lost her balance and stumbled against the half-wall. Archer held Umiko casually in one hand, streams of water orbiting the blade. He scanned the room, his gaze taking in absolutely everybody’s position.

“How--” said Mamako faintly, and then stopped.

Gilgamesh swung around to look at Umiko and then back at Mamako. Then he gestured impatiently. “Well? Deliver it to her.”

Archer strolled past the King of Heroes and Saber to place the sword on top of the half-wall. As soon as he released the hilt, Umiko began to scold Mamako once again. 

But the sword’s mental voice faded in comparison to the awful chill when Gilgamesh spoke. “There is no such thing as an acceptable reason to destroy my work rather than have your familiar spirit do such a menial chore. But perhaps your story will prove momentarily entertaining. Speak.”

Mamako puffed out her cheeks, looking between Shirou and Rin, but both of them had their attention entirely focused on the golden-haired man between them. Then she said, “I didn’t want to do anything magic in front of people who didn’t know about magic.”

“And who here do you think that would be?” Gilgamesh asked, with a trace of exasperation peeking through the ice.

Mamako couldn’t help herself. She looked toward Taiga and Sakura. So did everybody else. Slowly Sakura’s cheeks flushed and she mumbled something that might have been, “I know…”

Taiga, meanwhile, looked around and then behind herself in confusion before staring at her audience with wide eyes. “What? You think I don’t know what Kiritsugu got up to in that shed? And what Shirou still does out there?” She scratched her head, laughing nervously. “I mean, every family has little secrets, right? And--” she coughed, “--there was a time when my gramps thought Kiritsugu might… well, never mind, didn’t happen, probably for the best but anyhow he told me some of the Emiya secrets.” Then, because she couldn’t seem to stop talking, she added, “Also there’s this peephole into the shed… uh… never mind. I only ever used it to make sure Shirou wasn’t dead!”

“Very good, mongrel,” said Gilgamesh icily. “Well, Mamako? Invoke your familiar and come with me.”

Gingerly, Mamako picked up Umiko and placed the sword across the sink. Then, slowly she stripped the gloves off as the coils of water unspun from the blade and lifted the remaining dishes into a ball of water.

“Where do you think you’re taking her?” demanded Saber, and a frisson of terror ran down Mamako’s spine. She turned away from Umiko but Gilgamesh answered before she could intervene.

“Don’t bark at your betters, Saber. I choose neither to display my treasures before a pack of gape-jawed mongrels, nor allow them to cripple their hands in toil for such beasts.”

Mamako could feel the tension in the room rising once more. She emerged from the kitchen, holding her hands against her chest, only to be blocked by Archer’s broad back as he shifted position. “No, get out of my way,” she begged.

“Archer,” commanded Rin, and Archer moved aside, grumbling. Saber, however, still blocked Mamako, and Shirou and Rin seemed so very vulnerable.

“I’ll just take him to my room,” said Mamako hurriedly. “It’ll be all right.”

Shirou said, “Saber…” and Saber didn’t move.

Instead, tensely, she said, “This is not a good man, Shirou. He cares nothing for his subjects, nor does he respect his ‘treasures’. It is _wrong_ to sacrifice Mamako to him.”

“Tch--” said Gilgamesh and suddenly Mamako could no longer bear the sense of impending disaster.

“Stop it! I’m fine. I’ll be fine!” She rushed forward, almost running into Saber in her attempt to get past. Gilgamesh reached out and caught her arm, dragging her first to him and then out of the room before anybody could interfere. Without any input from her, he pulled her all the way to her room, pushed her in, and closed the door behind himself.

“_You_,” he growled, and all the ice of earlier flashed to an inferno in his eyes. He caught her by the shoulders and shook her until her teeth rattled. “You deserve far worse than death for your various insults. By rights I ought to chop those hands off. I _should_ have done it when I first saw you with those swords.”

Mamako yelped as the shaking made its way to her hands, and he stopped, his eyes still burning. Then he pushed her backward to her neatly made Western-style bed, sat her on it and once again began to bandage her hands. Once again the healing salve-infused cloth provided welcome relief from pain, and she sagged in exhaustion as he finished the first hand.

As he began to wrap her second hand, he said, “Satisfy my curiosity, woman. Do you still persist in thinking of me as _nice?_”

Looking at him from under her lashes, she said, “I think you were _very_ badly brought up, but that you have the potential for improvement.”

He paused in wrapping her hand, but only raised his gaze long enough to say, “I warned you about looking at me like that.” She blushed, and tried to hear the very faint voice insisting he was her son’s age.

As he finished that hand, he shifted his grip to her wrist and caught up the other, bearing her back against the mattress of her bed with no further warning, his ruby gaze pinning her thoughts the way his hands pinned her own. He lowered his head toward hers, but instead of doing anything indecent, he said in her ear, “Listen to me, Mamako, for I will only say this once, and briefly. A storm of unparalleled magnitude arrives tomorrow. That ritual today was one of several and they were only the beginning. You _are_ capable of entertaining me. If you wish to continue doing so, you will stay inside this house until it has broken.”

His nose brushed against her ear and he whispered against her neck, “Though perhaps…” His mouth trailed down her throat. Once again forbidden thrills raced through Mamako’s exhausted body. Oh, she really did need sleep! If she’d had a less exhausting day—

Then, abruptly, he released her and stood up, his mouth twisted in annoyance. “If you can be slightly less foolish for perhaps two days, the healing salve should restore your hands to working condition. _Try_ not to disappoint me.”

With no other goodbye, he walked out of her room, tch’ing at the audience that apparently lurked without. A moment later, the slam of a door signified his departure and _instantly_ what seemed like the rest of the household piled into her room to see how she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Gilgamesh is not a good person, and Mamako has personality flaws as deep as Shirou’s. Now we know. I do not endorse either of their personalities in the real world, but they’re awfully fun to write about. I hope you enjoy reading about them, too._


	11. Day 6 - Archer

Archer perched on the roof of the Emiya residence, doing his best not to openly sneer as Saber and Mamako tried to convince that idiot Shirou and his Master Rin (who had spent the night in a spare room after being up far too late arguing over strategies) not to go to school that day.

“The forecast is clear,” argued Shirou. “Personally, I don’t trust that man, Mamako.” He hesitated. “Saber, you’ll protect Mamako if he returns while we’re at school, right?”

Saber clapped her fist to her chest. “Absolutely, Master. But it would be much easier if you stayed here.”

“Hey, Shirou and I drove off Rider yesterday by ourselves, and today Archer will be with us. He’ll protect us if anything weird happens.” Rin glanced up at where Archer crouched. “Right, Archer?”

Archer’s mouth twisted. “Of course, Rin. I will absolutely protect you.”

Steel in her voice, Rin said, “And Shirou.”

With a sigh, Archer said, “Yes, if anything attacks Shirou while he’s near you, I will also protect him.”

Mamako stepped out from the house to look up at Archer, as if evaluating his fitness as a bodyguard. He met her gaze steadily. Although he had… very complicated feelings toward the woman, he knew she was inclined to trust him.

Sure enough, after a moment, Mamako gave him a sunny smile that made him feel like scum. When she looked away from him, it was like comforting darkness falling back over him.

“I’m sure Archer-kun will do his very best, but I’m not sure what he can do about a whole storm,” announced Mamako. “I don’t like the thought of you stranded at that school, dear. Not when so many other scary things have happened there.”

Then Shirou played his trump card. “Yes, but Taiga and Sakura already went to school for Archery club, Mamako. I’m not going to stay home while they brave danger. I’ll come home right after school, though.”

Mamako bit her lip and even Archer had to admit the idiot had said the right thing.

“Exactly!” said Rin, and grabbing Shirou’s arm, dragged him out of the compound, ignoring Saber’s flustered half-sentences.

Archer looked over the edge of the roof and turned that into a gentle flip down. Saber gave him an unpleasant glare. “Well? Why are you still here?”

“They just left, Saber-chan,” said Mamako absently, staring at Archer thoughtfully. “Archer—or you—can be there instantly if something happens in the next few minutes. Stay put a moment, Archer.”

With a resigned sigh, knowing exactly what was coming, Archer waited. The woman bothered him in so many ways. She was a wildcard even in his fragmented memories, which he didn’t like. Because of her—he was instinctively sure of this—a dangerous man he’d honestly hoped would stay buried in those fragments had appeared, just to scold her and bandage her injured hands. Rin and Sakura both respected her implicitly, and worse, seemed to want her approval. Taiga was firmly her partisan. Even that idiot Shirou was both anxious and eager to make her happy. And that was all just the tip of the iceberg.

The way she looked at Shirou and Sakura made him intensely uncomfortable. It touched on memories he refused look at too closely _(women curled around their children in a world of flames and death and blades)_ but left him certain that any careless attempt to end Shirou’s miserable existence would require crimes he wasn’t sure he could willingly commit.

Her magic and her sentient blades both concerned him, too. The water blade Umiko had observed him as he’d worked on Tracing its duplicate late in the night. Once he’d summoned the clone, Umiko had… taken control of it somehow. The sword had been delighted to have two bodies, but since it remained loyal to Mamako, Archer didn’t share its joy and had banished the duplicate. Umiko and Tsuchiko were Noble Phantasms, certainly, and in the hands of a soft woman who had done nothing to earn them. It irked him and, looking at that idiot Shirou, he knew how unfair that was of him.

“Here you go, Archer! Two onigiri for breakfast on the move, and a lunch just for you.” Mamako trotted back to the entrance, holding two containers. Just like he expected. His mouth a thin, annoyed line, he accepted them. He couldn’t take them with him when he dematerialized, but there was no point in telling _her_ that. She’d either give him an encouraging bit of nonsense, or look embarrassed as she talked about how stupid she was, and he couldn’t bear the thought of either.

He knew this woman too well, dammit, and that bothered him the most of all, given that he couldn’t remember her _at all_.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly. “But you don’t need to do this again. Rin’s magical energy conduit is functioning just fine for me.”

“And I’m sure that tastes yummy,” said Mamako, who clearly thought she was teasing until she noticed Archer’s sudden flush. Her eyes widened.

Before she could ask the kind of questions where even a silence or evasion would be dangerous, he stuffed one of the onigiri into his mouth, mumbled an incoherent, “Pretty good,” and ran after Rin and that idiot Shirou.

[later]

After climbing to the roof fully materialized (because of that damn lunchbox), Archer spent the morning keeping watch from on high, listening to Rin’s intermittent mental commentary on her classes. And at lunchtime, Archer ate his own lunch on the far side of the roof stairwell, trying not to listen to the mumbling conversation between that idiot and his Master on the other side. He _wanted _to kick Shirou off the roof, grab Rin and run away with her, and he knew exactly how stupid, illogical and counterproductive that was. The conflicting desires soured an already annoyed mood. That Mamako, encouraging Rin to ally with Shirou and making everything harder for him. And of course the lunch she’d prepared for him was beautiful and delicious too.

If only he had some nonviolent way of getting rid of her. Glumly he scanned the distance, looking for threats of either a natural or magical nature. Maybe this storm she was anticipating wouldn’t materialize. That would at least be a blow to her credibility. Possibly she’d be so embarrassed that she’d run away and hide, preferably in another_ (safer) _city.

Yet she’d gotten hints from two other Servants, and while Archer wouldn’t put such deception past Caster, Gilgamesh was far too arrogant to resort to lies. On the one hand, he’d all but called the woman one of his treasures; on the other hand, he thought leaving her within the Emiya residence was sufficient protection from whatever threat loomed. It was deeply mysterious.

So mysterious, in fact, that when he spotted the other Archer a few kilometers away, strolling down a commercial street, Archer spontaneously sent a message to Rin.

_Hey, I’m going to check something out. I’m not going very far, so just scream if he tries anything._ Leaving his lunchbox behind, he dematerialized and, ignoring Rin’s squawks, quickly closed with Gilgamesh as he strolled past small shops through middling lunchtime pedestrian traffic.

The King of Heroes sensed him immediately. In a lazy voice, he said, “Materialize before your king or die, Faker.” He twirled a hand as if spinning something idly.

Archer, who had been intending on doing just that behind a handy sign, hesitated at the command. Then he shook his head. Trifling issues of ego could be dealt with another time. He stepped out from behind the sign and caught up with Gilgamesh in three long strides.

“Well, mongrel?” said Gilgamesh indulgently. “Are you going to entertain me, or simply follow at my heels like a puppy?”

After considering his words carefully, Archer said, “I don’t think Shirou Emiya’s residence is the best place to leave things you value, especially when they’re breathing and female.”

Gilgamesh laughed. “_You_ seek to warn _me_ how to protect my treasures? Entertainment indeed. Well? Go on.”

“She’s at that kid’s house right now, having fits about that so-called storm you mentioned. I’m assuming it’s something magic, and I can promise you the protections on that place wouldn’t stand up to harsh language. Why not move her someplace more secure?”

Gilgamesh put his hands in his pockets. “Because I do not choose to, mongrel.”

Archer walked along with him in silence, waiting. Among his shattered memories, he seemed to recall somebody who really liked to hear himself speak—ah.

“Some jewels lose much of their luster when deprived of their settings,” the other said, as if musing to himself. “Whether this one can be moved to a new setting or not…” He trailed off. Then, to Archer, he said, “While extraordinarily consistent for a mongrel, that woman is also unpredictable. Thus I choose to leave the vixen safe with her foster cubs until I’m ready to reclaim her.”

Archer’s fingers curled into fists. Though he’d started the dialog that way, he found he didn’t like hearing Mamako discussed as either a jewel or an animal. Still, he’d come with intentions and he tried to stick to them. “How safe is she, though?”

“Worried about your own Master?” asked Gilgamesh, with annoying perceptiveness. “Aren’t you a loyal pup. What that _creature_ summons is an ill wind. Keep your Master indoors tonight.” His gaze skated over Archer and his lip curled. “I’m sure you can find a way.”

Then he stopped and inspected the nearest storefront: a hair salon, looking it over closely. “Hmm… Yes, I think so.”

Gilgamesh twirled his hand again and Archer could just detect a weak Bounded Field spreading out from whatever invisible thing Gilgamesh held. It settled into place around the salon, completely undetectable to people within. Archer touched it gingerly, and a small shock jolted through him; nothing worth even slowing down for in a serious conflict. He turned to give Gil a questioning look but the King of Heroes had already continued his stroll.

Once again, Archer caught up, promising himself this was the last time he’d do this to himself. “Have you realized just how fragile she is? She may have those Noble Phantasms but she’s an ordinary woman.”

Gilgamesh stopped abruptly. Without looking back, he said, his voice suddenly low and menacing, “Threatening what’s mine now? You’re starting to bore me, Faker.”A series of high-pitched whines almost impossible to hear caught Archer’s attention and he looked up to see, far above ordinary line of sight, a number of portals.

He swallowed, suddenly keenly aware (_reminded?) _that this man would happily kill a random number of other ‘mongrels’ if he decided Archer needed to die then and there. “Whoa, whoa, I’m worried about her too!”

The Gates of Babylon remained overhead as Gil said frostily, “A waste of your time, and now of mine. Run along back to your Master and plan out your preferred way to die.”

Once again, ego only slowed Archer for a moment. There were far too many innocent people around for him to even consider defying Gilgamesh further. Not here, not now. He dematerialized silently, and moved back to the high school.

Besides, he’d gained what he came for: confirmation that whatever loomed on the horizon was due later that evening, but not at Gilgamesh’s invitation. Whatever it was, the King of Heroes thought even a weak Bounded Field could protect against it.

Archer spent the afternoon chewing over the knotty question of whether or not to tell Rin what he’d learned. He was certain that if he corroborated Mamako and Saber’s concerns, Rin would take them seriously. She’d also try to stop it, whatever it was. She, and probably Shirou, and maybe Mamako, would be out on the streets _investigating_ until it was too late.

At last, as school let out, he came to a decision.


	12. Day 6, Night - Shirou

As night fell over Fuyuki City, Shirou, Saber and Mamako met up with Archer and Rin near the big bridge after stopping by the Emiya residence and leaving a note for Taiga and Sakura. After Archer had informed Shirou and Rin of what he’d learned from Gilgamesh, the two Masters had agreed that finding a way to sabotage whatever ritual the unknown dark-haired woman had triggered was far more important than the Grail War.

Rin held out a red gem to Shirou. “Here. With this, we can disrupt whatever she’s planning,” she said confidently. “When you find an active ritual circle, just chuck this in the center and run. You’ll have a couple of seconds before the whole ritual is shattered.”

Shirou frowned. “Do you know what will happen if we can’t find one of the circles?”

“Nothing good.” Rin scowled. “If _other Servants_ are afraid of it, I don’t even want to think of what it would do to ordinary people. I bet it’d make a gas leak look like a picnic. And as Second Owner—” Rin bit back the rest of what she was going to say, because it was none of Shirou’s business.

Shirou looked at her curiously, and then nodded. “You’re right. We should split up.”

“Yes, exactly,” said Rin, annoyed at him stating the obvious. “Archer and I will check out Shinto, while you and Saber go through Miyama.” Her gaze lingered on Mamako doubtfully. She knew how useful the older woman could be, and she expected to find more trouble on the Shinto side of the river than the Miyama side, where Rin had already checked out several prime ritual locations near her home.

On the other hand, Shirou was an idiot and clearly needed looking after. It was a tough decision and before Rin could make it, Archer said, “Mamako, you should come with us. Rin’s too shy to say it but she wants your help.”

Rin glared daggers at Archer and he made a little mollifying gesture with one hand, such that she realized he was using her as an excuse for his own reasons.

Mamako put her hands behind her back, swaying a little as she studied Archer and Rin. Then she smiled mischievously. “I don’t want to intrude on the two of you. I think I’ll stay with Saber and Shirou instead.”

_Intrude? _Rin gaped at Mamako for a moment and then demanded, “Do you think this is a _date_?”

Mamako’s smile widened, and she took Rin’s hand between her own two bandaged ones. Then she gave the girl a kiss on the cheek and whispered, “Sakura will feel better if I’m along to chaperone Saber and Shirou, don’t you think?”

Rin blinked and then nodded. If they could solve this problem tonight—

\--but there was no point in _if_. They _would_ solve it. Failure wasn’t an option. And then the Servants too cowardly to face this magical storm would automatically be at a disadvantage. With Archer’s help, Rin would defeat them and win the Holy Grail War.

They’d solve it. And _hopefully_ Shirou’s Strengthening magic would keep him alive in the process. For Sakura’s sake.

“Shall we get started?” suggested Mamako, her eyes twinkling. “I’m looking forward to walking along the river.”

Archer said urgently, “I really think you should come with us, Mamako.”

Rin gave him a quizzical look, reading an unusual concern in his body language. She saw it, but she didn’t understand the source. “No, I think she’s doing the right thing, Archer. We don’t need her.”

A muscle in his jaw twitching, Archer looked like he’d accidentally swallowed poison. Like some plan he’d made was going wrong. Rin couldn’t imagine what it was, though. Did he favor Saber and Shirou as a couple? But why would he even care? Rin had once thought he’d looked at Saber with some affection himself.

Well, if he did, tough luck. Saber was a Servant, Rin and Archer were going to win the Grail War, and Sakura _needed_ Shirou.

“Fine,” sighed Archer, and the look he gave Mamako was like that of a kicked puppy.

Mamako gave him a thumbs up. “You can do it, Archer!” Then she caught both Saber and Shirou by the hands and dragged them with her north up the riverbank, leaving Archer and Rin to cross to the other side.

* * *

Two hours later, the trio had scouted north along the river to the fringes of the city and then turned southwest. They’d found nothing, although Saber and Shirou could both sense a strangeness in the air.

For Shirou, it manifested as a slow-rising stink, like a dirty stove overheating. He couldn’t stop thinking about flash fires, and all the ways they could start. In a kitchen, it could be filthy oil, hurried cooking, being too uncertain of your recipes. In a city… it took bombs, or explosions, or magic. One of those he was intimately familiar with.

It was not a comfortable intimacy.

Preventing another disaster was why he’d decided to participate in the Grail War. He couldn’t let anybody else be hurt like he was. And so here he was, wandering around in the late evening trying to track an evil magic ritual by scent. But there seemed to be no _origin_ for the scent. It didn’t change with the wind; it wasn’t stronger near the river or away from it.

He wished he’d learned something other than Strengthening magic from Kiritsugu. Even though Rin had flatly dismissed the idea of putting a Bounded Field around the whole city, saying that would only make things worse, Shirou wanted to be doing _something_.

Saber ranged up and down side streets, checking for any hint of one of the ritual anchor sites, while Mamako walked beside Shirou when he wasn’t jogging ahead. She talked, both to him and to herself, about subjects of very little of importance: the architecture of the neighborhoods, her son’s childhood, her favorite foods, the intricacies of flower arranging, the giant tower she’d climbed once in some other land. Her small talk could have been annoying in the circumstances, but somehow instead it felt… hopeful. If Mamako wasn’t afraid of what might occur, maybe, just maybe, it would all be all right.

Each time Shirou dropped back to walk with her, she’d offer him a drink of tea from the Thermos she’d brought, or one of her onigiri. At one point he wondered if maybe this was all a bad dream he’d wake from, with a cool hand on his fevered brow.

He’d felt that way in the Shinto fire, too. But the fever had been the burning world, and he’d lost everything, including the warm hands and soft arms that had pushed him away, into the smoke and darkness, begging him to live—

Shirou shook his head and began ranging again, trying to follow his nose. Rin had said all they had to do was find one of the ritual anchor sites and use the gem. He’d know it when he saw it. There might or might not be a victim present—probably not, not in a place as populated as this neighborhood. But a circle on a playground could be passed off as a children’s game.

“Shirou.” Mamako’s calm voice drifted along the dark street. “I think I’m going to call the house and check on Taiga and Sakura. I did promise them a midnight snack party in the note and I don’t want them to think we’ve forgotten!” She pulled a small, sleek mobile phone from the same capacious coat pockets she’d been pulling tea and wrapped rice balls from.

He paused and then jogged back, Mamako’s mild concern triggering a curl of worry. Of course Sakura and Taiga would be safe at the Emiya residence, but—

“Hello, Taiga! How are you and Sakura doing? Looking forward to snacks—” Mamako stopped, her brow drawing together. “She did? Oh.” Then, her voice cheerful and bright and utterly convincing, she said, “Oh, yes. Everything’s fine! We’ll be back soon and Shirou’s going to cook up a storm! We just have to finish this little project of mine. Bye-bye!”

Her eyes wide, she met Shirou’s gaze as she put the phone away. “Sakura got called back to her own house. She left almost as soon as Taiga got there.”

Despite his winter jacket, a chill swept through Shirou, his mind blanking. Why would Sakura be called home today of all days?

_Shinji_.

Shirou remembered his argument with Shinji earlier that day. Shinji, whose Servant had attacked him in the woods. Shinji who was furious at him for refusing to betray Rin. He’d promised retribution. But against Sakura?

His breath coming short and shallow, Shirou reminded himself that Shinji’s family had been magi in the past. He’d explained that himself. Just as the Emiya residence had a Bounded Field created by Shirou’s father, surely the Matou household had one as well. Sakura would be safe—

_The bruise was a dull purple. Time had passed, but not enough to hide it._

“Shirou?” said Mamako, and Shirou realized she’d said his name a few times now. He blinked and focused on her.

“The Matous—” he began uncertainly as Saber ran up to see why they’d stopped.

Mamako shook her head, unsmiling. “There’s something wrong with Sakura’s family, Shirou. She hates going to that house.”

Saber looked curiously at the two of them. “Is this important right now? If Sakura knows about magic, surely—”

Shirou felt Mamako’s gaze on him as he lowered his eyes. His hands and feet felt so cold. Sakura had been visiting him for two years. She had her own key to the residence. Sometimes she woke him in the morning. Bidding her farewell signaled the end of his day.

Somehow the cold was emptying him out, leaving him hollow inside. He tucked his hands under his arms as if he could stop the slow leak of heat that way.

“We still have a large part of the south to cover,” said Saber, with a touch of urgency. “I can feel the magical pressure growing.”

Shirou didn’t even know for certain if the Matou house had protections. He’d never noticed anything other than a faint scent of insects that clung to everything that came from that house.

He thought of Sakura, emerging from a bath at his house after a rainy day, wearing some of his older clothes while he washed and dried hers. Instead of smelling faintly of the Matou house, she’d smelled of his shampoo, his soap, and something else, something indefinably her that he could smell from across the room.

A tendril of her wet hair had curled next to her ear, and she’d given him an embarrassed smile as she tugged at the shirt and shorts he hadn’t worn in three years. He’d looked at her in his clothes and then looked away quickly, because the twist of heat that dried his throat was _not an appropriate way to feel_ about his friend’s little sister. About his kohai, who looked to him as a teacher. He liked teaching her. He wanted to teach her… but how could he even think about teaching her about _that_?

He’d taken her to the kitchen, and they’d made crepes instead. He’d tried very hard not to notice the way his hands had fit over hers or how her shoulder had nestled against his side as she’d watched him pour the batter. When she’d reached up for a potholder and his old shirt had clung to the curve of her breast—

She’d come back the next day with her usual odor: that tantalizing scent that was hers alone masked by the insect whiff he barely noticed anymore. And he had been _glad_. Glad everything was back to normal. Glad he wouldn’t be tempted anymore. Glad he wouldn’t accidentally hurt her with his big hands and indecent appetites.

He remembered again the purple bruises Shinji had left and rising bile almost choked him. Shinji, who smelled like insects too, even after a shower. He’d always talked about Sakura like she was his personal property. Like he was entitled to do anything he wanted to her.

Mamako said slowly, “You two can keep searching, if you wish. I’m going to go see Sakura. She needs to be somewhere safe tonight.”

Shaking his head, Shirou backed away from Mamako. “No.” A red, formless rage shot through him: some for Shinji and more for himself. It met the rising bile and seemed to explode, transmuting that cold emptiness to a need bordering on a hunger. Suddenly only one thing mattered to him.

“No?” said Mamako, raising her eyebrows, staring at him keenly.

“No,” Shirou repeated. “I’m going to get Sakura. Her home is with me.” Then he ran, back through streets he’d already patrolled, and then through streets strange to him, inexorably moving toward the Matou house. Every slap of his feet against the ground seemed like the chant of her name. When he thought about how Shinji could hurt her as revenge on him, he ran faster. And when he remembered how _glad_ he’d been when she’d returned covered in the Matou stench, he wanted to reach back in time and kill himself.

He ran instead. Running was possible. Running meant he still might save Sakura tonight.

When he reached the Matou mansion, he banged on the door, and then kicked it. He was getting ready to kick it again even harder when Shinji opened it.

A smirk curled Shinji’s mouth for only a moment before Shirou had him by the collar. “Where’s Sakura?”

“You mean _my sister_?” said Shinji, his eyes glittering as his smile twisted. “She’s busy. Getting cleaned up. She got all _greasy_ somehow at your place.”

Shirou stared at Shinji, rage warring with his _need_ to bring Sakura home. Then he dragged Shinji down the steps and threw him onto the ground.

“You _dare_?” snapped Shinji, trying and failing to resist. As he sprawled on the ground, he said, “Rider! Protect your Master.”

And when Shirou turned back to the mansion’s entrance, Rider stood on the threshold. Once again his path to Sakura was blocked. One of her chained knives shot at him, but it was oddly slow. He dodged it before charging her, his shoulder low.

Rider gave a low, exasperated sigh, and her second chain wrapped around his neck and yanked him to one side. He staggered and then caught himself.

“Good!” shouted Shinji. “Now kill him, before that other bitch shows up!”

Shirou grabbed the chain as it slowly tightened around his neck, kicking out. Rider stepped backward to avoid him, drawing him closer to her.

Then a voice, soft but frantic, said, “Rider, no! Stop!”

The chain loosened and dropped away from Shirou’s throat as he stood on the threshold of that stinking house. Outside Shinji howled in frustration. But Rider only stepped aside, revealing Sakura to Shirou.

Her hair was wet, with a tendril curling next to her ear. She wore a long shirt and pajama bottoms, both damped to sheerness in spots from being put on while she was still dripping wet.

“Senpai?” Sakura said wonderingly.

“Sakura…” said Shirou, and ran out of words. Shaking his head, he crossed the few steps between them and pulled her into his arms, pressing her head against his shoulder, her breasts against his chest, and his nose into her hair. Like this, he could smell _her_. The real Sakura, under the insects and the foulness of this house.

He held her like that for a long moment, her arms hesitantly slipping around his waist, one hand stroking his back like _he_ needed comfort. If he’d had any attention to spare for anything other than the girl in his arms, he might have wondered why Rider was only standing on the threshold, a silent guard, and why Shinji’s shouts of rage suddenly stopped.

But instead he held Sakura in his arms and the edge, just the edge of his hunger was sated. For now.

After another long moment, as his rage faded and he became more aware of the finer details of her body pressed against his, he heard the sound of Mamako, going on about something. Slowly, he remembered the situation they were in; the trigger for his moment of blinding clarity. They weren’t out of the woods yet, and if he wanted to explore this new feeling he’d admitted to himself, they had to survive first.

Shirou lifted his head and then kissed Sakura’s hair. “Go get what you need to come home with me. Right now, Sakura. We don’t have much time.”

She blinked up at him and he realized she’d been crying all that time into his chest. His heart wrenched. “Sakura, no--”

In response, she gave him a teary smile and ran back upstairs.

Somewhere in the house, something chittered. Behind him, Rider said, “Shirou Emiya, leave this house now.”

“Not without Sakura,” said Shirou, feeling strangely calm in the wake of his rage.

The Servant’s hand fell on his shoulder, dragging him backwards with unearthly strength as she hissed in his ear, “I am trying to save your life, you absolute idiot—”

The chittering sound grew louder. Was it coming from beneath his feet, growing louder as he dug them in, trying stubbornly to resist the Servant behind him?

“—get out of here and I’ll bring Sakura along later when it’s safe—”

Then Sakura ran back down the stairs carrying her competition travel bag. “I’m coming now! Rider—” Sakura dashed over to Shirou and took his hand with both of hers. “Rider… keep my brother safe, okay? Do your best.”

Rider’s hand left Shirou’s shoulder and she answered tonelessly, “As you wish.” Then, her voice nastier, she added, “But I think what he’s getting right now is exactly what he deserves.”

Shirou and Sakura walked out of the house and stopped on the threshold, staring at the scene before them. Shinji was still sprawled on the ground, half propped up on his elbows—although he was in a different location that suggested he’d been knocked down again. Mamako crouched in front of him, like she’d crouch down to talk to a toddler. She seemed to be very earnestly lecturing him, although Shirou couldn’t process the _topic_ of the lecture very clearly. And behind Mamako stood Saber, her invisible blade leveled at Shinji, a promise of what would happen if he made any move Mamako didn’t approve.

Shinji had a shellshocked expression on his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was being lectured by this random woman on… Shirou diverted some of his attention from the heated body pressed against his own… on how being a good host and a good brother were complementary skills and he’d need to think hard about—

The chittering grew louder again and Rider inhaled sharply, almost a gasp. Mamako looked up, her gaze passing over Shirou with his arm around Sakura and then to something behind them. She stood, her expression hardening. “Come along, children. Start walking. I’ll talk to Sakura’s…. _guardian_ and then catch up.”

Shirou didn’t argue, but Sakura huddled against him as if afraid to move. He slid an arm around her waist and half carried her down the steps to the house. As he passed her at the base of the steps, Saber said, “Shirou? What should I—”

His mind whirled. Protect Sakura or protect Mamako?

“Go, Shirou!” said Mamako firmly.

_Live, Shirou_, echoed a voice from the day of fire.

Sakura’s personal scent tickled his nose. She was _terrified_. He could feel it in how cold her hand was clutching his shirt, and how slowly she moved.

“Come with us,” Shirou said to Saber. “Let’s hurry.”

Shinji scrambled to his feet as soon as Saber turned away, his face a rictus of fury. “Fine!” he shouted. “Take the slut! She’s all used up anyhow!”

Sakura froze and then shrank away from Shirou, trying desperately to disentangle herself from him, her breath coming hard and fast as if she was panicking. Once again that red rage bloomed in Shirou’s mind. But before he could act on it, the sound of a resounding slap echoed off the house. Shinji grunted in shock and Mamako said angrily, “Never, _never_, _never_ say that again, young man.”

Sakura stilled, panting. Shirou exhaled slowly, briefly pressed his nose into Sakura’s hair again, and started firmly but inexorably walking them out of the estate.

The chittering surrounded them as they walked through the grounds to the gate, growing louder and more menacing. But as they stepped onto the street, back at the house Mamako said brightly, “Good evening, sir—” and the rustling sound of thousands of insects stopped abruptly.

The further Shirou and Sakura got from the house, the more freely Sakura seemed to move, until she was simply holding Shirou’s hand as they walked along. Eventually, she said in a tiny voice, “But Mamako—”

“Mamako is fine,” said Shirou, and almost believed it.

Sakura shook her head. “No, she’s not, you don’t understand—”

“Hallooo!” called Mamako behind them. They both stopped and looked over their shoulders as Mamako came trotting up behind them, only mildly out of breath. “I sorted it all out,” she said, beaming. “Sakura’s going to be spending a nice long time visiting me at your house, Shirou.”

Sakura blinked, her mouth opening, closing and opening again. After a moment, she started to shudder and then pulled her hand away from Shirou so she could crouch down, hugging herself. She kept blinking, as if something was in her eyes, and making little keening squeaks.

Shirou patted her head uncertainly. If he was at home with his kitchen, he’d know what to do. “Uh. Mamako, do you have any of that tea left?”

A stricken look transformed Mamako’s face. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry! I had such a dry throat after I left that horrible house that I drank the rest! I’m such an idiot! I should have known Sakura-chan would need it more—”

Shirou frowned, looking more closely at Mamako. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but he thought he saw red rings around her eyes, and the white of strain around her mouth.

“Shirou,” said Saber urgently. “Shirou! We have to go!” He’d never heard that note of dread in his Servant’s voice.

Then he smelled it too: the scent of a dirty stove, bursting into flame.

Frantically he looked around, trying to understand what was occurring. Then Sakura tugged on his sleeve as she slowly stood up, her eyes raised to the horizon.

A wall of dim magenta light shimmered in the south, reaching from the city to the stars. It reminded him of a tsunami: endless, churning, deadly. And as Sakura squeezed his hand, he realized that, like a tsunami, the wall was steadily creeping forward.

“Oh!” said Mamako. “I suppose that’s the storm. Let’s run, children!”

They ran, Saber dancing around them worriedly: first leading the way, then circling back behind Sakura and Shirou to where Mamako lagged behind.

“No, no,” panted Mamako. “I’m fine, Saber.”

They ran. Shirou held Sakura’s hand, their fingers interwoven together. Her head was low, her eyes focused on the horizon opposite the moving wall of magic. Shirou with his longer legs could have outpaced her easily, but why would he? At that moment, she was all he wanted, and if required he’d shield her with his body and pray that was enough.

They ran, but each time he glanced over his shoulder, the magenta wall was closer. Like a tidal wave, it moved much faster than it appeared. His home was less than a kilometer away. Would Saber carry Sakura to safety if he ordered it?

“No, Saber!” wheezed Mamako, and then, “No, you’re right. Children—”

Her voice fell behind and Shirou stumbled as Sakura stopped abruptly. “We can’t leave her behind again,” she whispered, pulling away from Shirou to turn back.

Shirou’s heart clenched. Mamako was Mamako; she could take care of herself.

He remembered her bleeding hands, and the way she’d insisted on doing dishes anyhow; how she’d tried to hide from the golden king and his wrath. Shirou had thought afterwards that maybe he should have insisted with the dishes. But he’d been _glad_ for the opportunity to play with Sakura, _glad_ to take Mamako at her word—

“Come stand in my shadow,” called Mamako, her voice low but steady. She stared at the churning, swirling wall of magic. It wasn’t bright, but the light tinged everything except the ‘shadow’ directly behind Mamako. Sakura ran back to her and numbly, Shirou followed.

Mamako said, “Saber, if you’d… stand right behind me.” She gave a tired little smile. “I don’t want to fall down.”

“Of course, madam,” said Saber, and placed herself so as to brace Mamako, with Shirou and Sakura right behind her.

The magenta wall of magic wasn’t silent. It came with a low roar, like thousands of people all gathered together shouting, somewhere in the distance. As it got closer, closer, swallowing up the houses on their very street, he thought he could hear individual voices. Some of them sounded familiar. He prayed he was wrong. And it stank so badly—

—but it shed no heat. Whatever happened to them, they wouldn’t burn, at least.

“Now, children,” said Mamako brightly. “Everything is going to be okay. Just trust me, all right?”

And, helplessly, his eyes filling with tears as he felt something he thought he’d forever lost, Shirou _did_. He was far too old, had seen far too much, had the girl he loved in his arms, and yet he _trusted_ like a child being tucked in. Mamako was going to save them from the monster under the bed.

She looked back over her shoulder and smiled at him as Sakura sobbed against his chest. Then, tilting her head a little as she faced forward, she lifted both of her bandaged hands in front of her, holding them together, palms out. A white light glimmered around them, faint but clear against the reaching tentacles of the magenta wall.

The white light was so small, like a chrysanthemum against a wildfire. Shirou pressed Sakura against him, as if he could melt her inside of him to keep her safe. But she wouldn’t let him turn her away, shield her as completely as Mamako shielded them, so they stood together, watching, as the magenta wall swept toward them. Right before it hit them, Mamako said quietly, in a voice of steel and sunshine, “No. This will not happen.”

The magenta light was a flood, not a wall, and it parted around Mamako’s tiny white light like she was unbreakable. It roared and surged and twisted around them, but they stood in Mamako’s shadow of normalcy and it didn’t touch them.

Mamako’s white light grew in response to the magic surge, just as awe and relief rose in Shirou’s chest. As he watched, although Mamako’s bandages remained in place, tendrils of blood drifted out from her palms, twisting in the white light and reaching toward the magenta, like spikes on the flower.

There were so many of them. If it really was blood, she couldn’t have much left inside her. But it was pretty. And Mamako had told him to trust her.

* * *

The magenta surge finally passed, and over in Shinto, Rin was preparing to launch a tirade at Archer as he dropped the desolate, stabby Reality Marble he’d yanked her into when the wall of magic had neared. How _dare_ he keep such a potent weapon secret from her? And how had he acquired it? She was definitely going to get some answers—

Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, awaited them, lounging against what looked like some kind of futuristic spaceship parked in the middle of the street. His crimson eyes flicked over Rin. Then, to Archer, he said, “I really did think you’d be able to control your woman better. Obviously not. That a mongrel like you was assigned to my class repels me.”

Archer inhaled as if to speak and then clearly stifled himself. When Rin glanced at him, his face was absolutely blank.

But Gilgamesh’s eyes narrowed. “She _didn’t_.”

Carefully, Archer said, “Don’t you know, King of Heroes?”

“Certain kinds of idiocy are beyond belief,” snapped Gilgamesh, and slung himself gracefully into his spaceship.

As it soared away, Rin said urgently, “After him, Archer! We can’t let him hurt Mamako!”

Archer clasped his hands behind his head. “That ship has sailed, Rin. He’s no more likely to hurt that woman than I am to hurt you.”

She regarded him suspiciously and he gave her a serene look. After chewing on her lip for a moment, she said decisively, “Well, we should head back to Shirou’s anyhow. But we can spend some time along the way figuring out what happened.” Rin looked around. The sky was tinged with magenta, but all the stars seemed there. The buildings all stood where they’d been. She herself felt normal.

And yet… “The city seems _awfully_ quiet all of a sudden.”


	13. Day 7, Before Dawn

After the thunder of the magenta flood of light faded away, Mamako lowered her hands and pivoted toward Shirou and Sakura. The bandages on her hands were soaked in blood and her eyes were glassy. 

“Well! That was invigorating!” She swayed, and Saber gave her a supportive arm. “Oh, thank you, dear. Are you kids all right? Oh, I see you are. Yay…” Her eyelids fluttered and she said faintly, “Hero-sama will be angry at me again. But don’t worry… that just means he cares…” She frowned, her eyes closing entirely. “He’s Ma-kun’s age though…” She collapsed bonelessly into Saber’s arms.

Shirou shuddered. He felt like some dream he’d been lost in since going to reclaim Sakura had dissolved around him. Suddenly the only right thing in the world was Sakura beside him. 

“She lives,” said Saber tensely. “But she’s very cold and pale. I fear she expended too much of her strength shielding us.”

“We need Rin. Or a hospital,” said Shirou, looking around as if an answer would appear.

Sakura shook her head slowly. “No. Senpai, listen.”

“Listen to… what? It’s quiet.”

Sakura gave Shirou a sidelong look. “Yes, it is.” She glanced at the houses on either side of them and then pulled away from Shirou’s hand. “It’s _really_ quiet.”

“Sakura!” said Shirou as she marched to one of the houses. He took a few steps after her before throwing an agonized look at Saber with Mamako, pulled in two directions at once.

“Finding out what has occurred will be important in our planning now, Shirou,” said Saber quietly.

Meanwhile, Sakura went right to the front of the house and first knocked, then hammered on the door. The sound echoed up and down the empty street, and Shirou realized what Sakura seemed to have already guessed: There was nobody breathing on that street except them. The idea was so breathtakingly horrifying that he couldn’t even move until he realized Sakura was shoving open the house’s unlocked front door. 

If the house was unlocked that meant somebody _should_ have been home. Imagining Sakura tripping over a corpse freed Shirou from his horror paralysis, but by the time he’d dashed to the house, she’d already vanished within.

He bulled in after her, panic surging through him when he didn’t see her in the empty hall. As she stepped back into the hall from a side room, he almost ran her over. 

She caught him, her arm curling around his waist, as she said flatly, “They’re all gone. Even the baby. I think somebody was changing a diaper…” She spoke so calmly that he wondered if she’d somehow seen such tragedy before.

“Gone?” said Shirou blankly. He looked around again, as if that would help him understand. The house had lights on in the hall and the living room, with a nightlight activated in what must have been the baby’s room.

Sakura shook him a little, her voice rising in pitch. “_Gone, _senpai. They’re not here.” She let him go and hurried back outside. At first, Shirou had the crazy idea that she was returning to the Matou mansion to see if Shinji and her Grandfather had _gone_ too. Once again he raced after her, catching her by the arm.

“We have to check the other houses,” she said in a little voice. “I want to check. I need to know.”

After a hesitation where he thought again about Shinji, and bruises, Shirou nodded and let her go. “I’ll come with you. Even if most people are gone, there might be some others who… who were protected. No, there _must_ have been.” 

He thought of Rin, and of Archer’s confidence that those behind Bounded Fields would find shelter. Rin _had_ to be safe. If she didn’t turn up soon, they’d have to go looking for her. He didn’t know how injured Mamako was, but it was possible Rin was her only hope.

The house across the street was locked, but the one next to it was unlocked, and also empty. Food had been left cooking in the oven. Shirou automatically turned the oven off and then stared helplessly at the roast chicken half-done inside. What could he do with it? What _should_ he do with it? It was wrong to waste food, and wrong to steal food, especially from the dead. _Were_ the inhabitants dead? Would they come back soon, expecting their supper? The half-cooked chicken had just started to smell good, and Shirou couldn’t help feeling like just leaving the chicken there, uncooked, soon to rot, was disrespectful to the food itself.

And then he imagined dozens of chickens, maybe hundreds, all over Fuyuki, left behind to burn and decay, untasted, unappreciated, in homes where _everybody was gone._

The thought was too big.

He’d have to do something about the chickens.

“Senpai!” called Sakura urgently. He turned away from the nightmare in relief and joined her in the living room. “It’s odd, senpai, but doesn’t that look like where the television would be?” She pointed at a blank wall with an outlet where, yes, Shirou would expect to see a television.

“Did it vanish too?” he wondered. “Was there a tv in the last house?” He hadn’t checked their stove. He’d go back—

“Shirou!” shouted Saber, from the lawn outside, where she held the chilly Mamako against her own warmth while keeping watch.

He was out the door in a flash, Sakura right behind him. A green and gold ship filled the street and that golden king, Gilgamesh, was stepping down, just as angry as he’d been in Shirou’s house. That time he’d worn a black jacket and jeans, but now he wore armor and his chest was bare, with angular red tattoos on his skin. Instinctively, Shirou moved between him and Saber.

“_You,” _said Gilgamesh, his voice clipped and sour. “Of course you survived. Because of her?” His mouth twisted in disgust. Saber came up beside Shirou, having pressed Mamako into a kneeling Sakura’s arms, while Gilgamesh stared at them as if trying to make a tricky decision. 

Shirou wondered if Mamako was right about the man: that his anger simply meant he cared. But this didn’t feel like much protection. Caring could mean so many things. Sometimes you cared so much you got confused and hurt who you cared for, because that kind of caring meant changing who you were.

_Sakura’s wet hair, curling next to her ear, and that scent, fresh and clean and her own..._

His fists clenched as helplessness swept over him. He’d fight to protect Mamako and Sakura, but he remembered the battle between Saber and Berserker. This Servant was smaller in physique but just as mighty in presence, and what did Shirou have to defend against such power?

The air hummed as golden ripples opened around Gilgamesh as he studied them. Softly he said, “Perhaps I _have_ given far too much attention to a woman who so consistently ignores me.”

Saber tensed, her invisible blade in her mailed fists. She lifted the weapon, her eyes glittering. “Begone, King of Heroes. Too much that is strange has happened tonight for us to fight. Look to your hairdressers and chocolate shops instead.”

Gilgamesh gave her a dead look. “I remembered you as _interesting_, Saber.” Blades slid out of the golden ripples and Gilgamesh surveyed them one last time. “Well—”

“She trusted you’d come for her,” said Sakura’s clear voice from behind them.

The weapons from the portals froze, but the distant carelessness of his expression became something hard and set. “What?”

“She knew she’d be hurt protecting us, but she did it anyhow because she trusted your…” Sakura stumbled over her words, her anxiety slipping past her courage. “She trusted your feelings.”

Gilgamesh’s face twisted again, this time into an expression of intense irritation that didn’t feel nearly as threatening even with the swords still poking from the portals. “Tch. Taking me for granted, is she?” 

He strode forward and Saber moved her sword defensively.

Slowly, Shirou put his hand on Saber’s arm. “You said she needed help, Saber.”

Saber didn’t even look at him, her face a picture of stubborn determination. Every taut muscle in her body communicated her willingness to attack Gilgamesh if he came any closer.

"Your inability to draw conclusions from prior events goes some way toward explaining your previous failures, Saber,” said Gilgamesh acidly. “After my previous exertions, why would I harm her _now_?”

Unconsciously, Shirou’s eyes flickered to the swords still intruding into the world from the portals. It was a tiny movement, but the Archer noticed. He sighed, putting one hand to his head. “You mongrels would weary a god.” 

With a flick of his hand, the portals closed, and he stalked past Saber to where Sakura knelt in the grass, still holding Mamako against her warmth. Sakura willingly released her to him and he scooped her up, cradling her head against his bare chest. Without another glance at any of them, he carried Mamako back to his strange ship and levitated to the top.

As he watched Gilgamesh leave with Mamako, Shirou felt an ache in his chest. Mamako needed healing, and Gilgamesh seemed to be able to provide it, but all the same, Shirou felt like he was losing something he needed more than he’d realized. 

Sakura came up beside him, slipping her hand into his. As the ship lifted into the air, she whispered, “She’s not gone forever. She’ll come back.” Shirou didn’t know if she was reassuring him or herself, but found the words comforted him either way.

“Shirou,” said Saber on his other side, and Shirou realized belatedly that she was trembling, just a little. “Shirou, we’re going to have to deal with _that_ _man_ again, are we not?”

“Probably?” he hazarded. If Mamako returned (and _oh_ he hoped she did), Gilgamesh probably would too.

“Yes,” muttered Saber, as if to herself. “And I mustn’t fight him. Even if he’s the enemy of all that is good and just in the world. He might even be…” her mouth curled in distaste, “…_useful_ in this bleak hell we’ve found ourselves in.”

“Maybe,” conceded Shirou. He looked around, thinking of all the abandoned ovens. “Let’s go home and check on Taiga. I promised to cook for her. I have to keep my promise.”

* * *

Mamako awoke slowly and comfortably into a dimness that smelled of cedar and rain. Warmth pressed down on her, nestling her into softness so gentle she almost felt like she was floating. Her first thought was that she’d have to get up soon to make breakfast for Ma-kun… or was it Shirou-kun? But it was so pleasant in this bed. She’d hurt so much after the magenta storm and now she didn’t.

The magenta storm… She remembered that Shirou and Sakura had been safe. And then…

She _was_ in a bed, under an extremely heavy blanket, and it was the most comfortable bed she’d ever experienced despite still being fully dressed.

Her brow furrowed as her eyes opened, staring up at a dark ceiling. Light came from the corners of the room, shining brightest from one corner. When she turned her head, she found Gilgamesh sitting there, leaning back in a chair a little too large for the space. His eyes were intent on her as he leaned his chin on his hand.

Mamako met his gaze gravely as she wiggled her toes under the heavy blanket. Physically she felt better than she had in days, and a surge of affection for Gilgamesh rushed through her. She was sure she’d disappointed him, and yet he’d helped her once again anyhow. And he wasn’t scolding her, either.

A tiny thread of unease stitched itself through Mamako’s comfort. _Why_ wasn’t he scolding her? Had he suddenly developed an awareness and matching respect for her advanced age? The blur of disappointment and shame made her sit up abruptly, pushing the heavy blanket down to her lap.

“You make everything strange, Mamako,” said Gilgamesh, as if musing to himself. “Everything twists beyond the known and I think you’re at the heart of it.”

Mamako looked down at the red and blue blanket, looked up through her lashes, remembered he had _feelings_ about that look, and raised her head. “Oh, I hope not. I try to follow the rules when people explain them to me.”

He snorted, shifting position to lean forward, his hands clasped on his knees. “And you lie like a modern angel. You only follow the rules it pleases you to follow.”

“No!” Mamako protested. “Following the rules is very important to staying safe, you know. It’s just that sometimes there are things more important than staying safe.”

“And sometimes the rules are simply inconvenient?” inquired Gilgamesh, with a flash of malice.

She gave him a half-smile, smoothing the blanket with perfectly healed hands. “You certainly seem to think so.”

“Tch. I’m a king. I _make_ the rules.”

“Really? Did you always, even when you were a small child?” 

His crimson gaze met her own for a long moment. “Even then.”

Sympathy twisted Mamako’s heart, tears springing to her eyes as she imagined what a lonely little boy he must have been. “Didn’t you have a mother?”

Gilgamesh raised his head as his hands tightened together. “Do not even begin to think you have some justification to treat me as one of your mongrel children, Mamako. Yes, I had a mother. She was a goddess. But goddesses were common, and I was unique.”

_All children are unique_. The casual truism almost tripped from her mouth, but something in his gaze held her tongue. She remembered he was of the class _Archer_ and a little of the nature of the Holy Grail War that Rin had explained the first night. For a moment she contemplated all the little bits of himself he’d told her, scattered like jewels in darkness. Then she shied away, looking down at the blanket again.

“What a nice blanket!” she said brightly. “And so heavy. I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well!”

“From my treasury,” he said absently. “You were drained nearly beyond recovery.”

Mamako flushed. “I don’t know—” She remembered the blood from her palms, dancing around her. “I think the bandages helped me, even then. Thank you.”

“Yes,” he said dismissively, and returned to looking at her silently. Mamako looked around the room, noticing the shelves with exquisite knick-knacks, the expensive architectural art on one wall, the small collection of CDs and books. Thick curtains blocked any hint of light from the window. The room was so tidy as to seem un-lived in, save for the comfortable way it smelled.

“When I was a boy,” he said at last, “there were a million futures, scattered like straw. As I grew into a man, all the futures I saw slowly aligned.” His brow furrowed as she looked at him attentively. “Now they scatter again. This singularity we’re in is only one example of the… disruption you’ve caused.”

Mamako didn’t quite understand what he meant, but she felt strongly this was one of those times, as with the explanation of the Grail War, where if she just listened carefully, she’d figure out the important parts. It seemed like he was half talking to himself, anyhow.

“Or so I thought, but now I wonder…” he said after another moment. Then he shook his head, the musing expression fading into his usual arrogance. “No, it couldn’t be. It’s just that somehow you turn everything around…”

Mamako’s cheeks puffed out. “Me? I’ve been trying so hard to behave properly. You’re the one who wants… wants to go against everything expected.” She shifted, suddenly aware she was in a bedroom, all alone with a young man she found very, very troubling indeed.

One of his eyebrows raised and he murmured, “Not what I was thinking, but since you are…” His gaze moved from her face down her body, and her body responded most shamefully.

“No!” she said loudly, her face very red. “Thank you for your magic blanket, but I really must get back to Shirou and the others.”

A smile so quick as to be imaginary flashed across Gilgamesh’s face and he met her eyes again. “Not yet.” She shoved the blanket further off her, and he added, “If you try to leave before I permit it, I promise you’ll enjoy the consequences.”

Mamako’s stomach flip-flopped and her thighs clenched instinctively. Suddenly unable to bear him watching her flush and squirm, she flopped back down on the bed again, covering her face. As the minutes passed, her curiosity gradually grew, until finally she looked at him again. “What are you _doing_?”

“Thinking about you. Waiting.” His mouth twitched in a frown as if something had occurred to him. “You may rise, but do not leave this room.”

He leaned back again as she promptly got off the bed. After smoothing her dress and looking around in vain for her shoes, she began to drift around the room, inspecting the decor and the books. Each knick-knack was, up close, an incredibly expensive looking statuette. Some were very old, while others were representations of modern structures. The books, though, were classics, one and all. One of them was called _Gilgamesh: the Hero of Mesopotamia_, and reminded Mamako that she’d heard the name before after all.

She looked over at him, curious, but not sure exactly what she wanted to ask. Before she could decide, he stood up, took two long steps to her side, and took her by the arm. “Come.”

He pulled her over to the window, flinging open the curtains. Beyond was the pre-dawn street in the upscale neighborhood Gilgamesh apparently called home. No cars moved along the streets, and no people along the sidewalks. It reminded Mamako of a movie set. In the distance, near the river, there was a tall geometric tower she didn’t remember seeing before. She felt sure she would have noticed, too. It was _very_ tall, maybe the tallest building she’d ever seen.

The horizon still glimmered with magenta light, although after a tense moment she decided it wasn’t moving toward her. She turned her head, craning to see as far as she could from the window.

“Yes, it contains Fuyuki now,” said Gilgamesh, but his gaze was fixed on the street below. Mamako followed his gaze and realized one person remained, at least. It was a teenage girl in what looked like hospital pajamas, walking very unsteadily down the middle of the street. 

Mamako blinked and looked closer. “Is that Ayako, Rin’s friend? The girl we rescued from the mountain?”

“Yes,” said Gilgamesh, and his hand tightened as she tried to pull away. “Wait. Watch.”

Biting her lip, Mamako watched. Ayako kept looking around and rubbing her eyes, which seemed to be the main reason for her unsteady pace, but other than that, she seemed reasonably well. But why was she walking the streets alone in pajamas?

“Ah. Here…” muttered Gilgamesh, as another figure leaped down from somewhere on high to hand in front of Ayako. 

Another Servant, Mamako realized immediately. Everybody here who did such things seemed to be a Servant. This one was a tall, astonishingly well-endowed woman, with purple-black hair nearly down to her feet and a long sword in a sheath striped like a tiger’s tail. She spoke to Ayako and then moved forward to grab her in a decidedly unfriendly way.

Dread crawling across her skin, Mamako tugged again at Gilgamesh’s steel grip. “That woman… we can’t let that woman take Ayako. There’s something _wrong_ with that woman. Please, Gilgamesh!”

“Shh,” he said, and pulled her close to him again just as the ground trembled and a roar loud even through the window glass filled the street. The Servant holding Ayako released her, pulling out her sword with a feral grin.

Wildly, Mamako looked in the direction of the roar. The largest man she’d ever seen stood at the curve of the street. He was a true giant, with eyes like flint and an enormous weapon—club? sword? in one hand. And standing on his shoulder, her hands on her hips and her face bright with a mixture of triumph and challenge, was the young girl who’d introduced herself as Illya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saber definitely does not ship it when it comes to Gilgamesh and Mamako. On the other hand, I think Archer kind of does. Shirou is... confused. That's a good word for it. Confused. Meanwhile Sakura is unusually well-suited to dealing with an apocalyptic crisis. Who would have guessed?


	14. Day 6, Night - Taiga

_Shrimp tempura. Fried chicken. Spaghetti salad. Agedashi tofu. Sweet cheese gyoza._

As he headed home with Saber and Sakura, Shirou concentrated on the menu he’d be preparing when he got home. It was more elaborate than he’d originally planned with Mamako, but he wanted to do it. Taiga and Saber would definitely eat everything he made, anyhow. They were bottomless pits. And Sakura would help him, and it would be just like ordinary life for a little bit longer.

All he had to do was ignore the silent streets as they walked home.

Oh, and Rin and Archer would be joining them soon. _Miso glazed eggplant and omelette rice._ He’d have to go to the market tomorrow, though—

Could he bake something? A sponge cake. He’d ask Sakura if she had any ideas.

“Senpai?” Sakura held his hand tightly, but she lagged behind him.

Saber said, “Shirou—” and Shirou realized it was he who was holding Sakura’s hand painfully tightly, dragging her behind him as he ran. He stopped abruptly, breathing hard.

“Sorry. I… I was thinking about what to cook for everyone.”

Sakura’s violet eyes searched his face. But all she said was, “Yeah. Me too.”

The Emiya residence was only a block or so away. His feet felt like lead. “They were making dinner in the second house. I turned the oven off, but I had to leave the food there. I think there must be a lot of ovens still on.”

“Let’s go see Fujimura-sensei, Senpai. Your oven is the only one we need to worry about now, okay?” Sakura started forward, tugging him gently after her. With Saber behind him, he let Sakura lead him to the house.

“We’re home!” he called as he opened the door. Taiga didn’t reply. “Sleeping under the kotatsu again, Fuji-nee?”

But the living room was empty, although the light and the tv, displaying only static, were both on. It was so like the other homes they’d investigated that Shirou’s planned menu evaporated in a haze of panic.

“Fuji-nee?” he shouted, and pulled away from Sakura to hurry through the house, looking in all of his adopted sister’s favorite spots: the bedroom she stored her ‘treasures’ in, the bathroom, even the roof. As he searched, and then searched again, he kept seeing Kiritsugu’s face when the man had found him alive after the Fuyuki Fire. Surely Taiga was somewhere, napping in a strange place, and when he found her, he’d smile the same way—

“Shirou!” called Saber. She grabbed his arm as he rushed past the living room again. Sakura was in the kitchen, quietly prepping ingredients. But without Taiga—

“Shirou!” Saber repeated. “I went to the dojo. Taiga’s shinai is gone. Is it possible she went out _after_ the storm?”

He stared at Saber and then exhaled slowly. “That must be it. Fuji-nee’s never been the sort to wait at home when something odd is happening.” He thought about that more. Doubts? He had plenty. But the Bounded Field of the residence remained intact. He could cling to that.

Glancing at the kitchen again, he almost smiled. Sakura had the right idea. All they could do now was make sure there was plenty of food to lure Taiga home again. Besides, Rin and Archer would be here soon. Definitely.

Everything was going to be just fine.

[earlier]

Taiga dozed under the kotatsu as the evening news went on about the recent gas leaks around the city, along with the rash of attacks on young women. She woke up enough to sleepily worry about Sakura. But Mamako would deal with it. She woke up a second time to think cranky thoughts about Shirou, who had promised her a feast and was now neglecting her… why? Something to do with magic, she gathered.

Stupid magic. It had taken Kiritsugu away from her too soon, somehow, and it would take Shirou away from her too, if she let it. If only she had some of these Magic Circuits…. She drifted back to sleep again, and dreamt of magenta lightning.

It was the television playing white noise that woke her for real. She jolted upright, staring at the snow-filled screen. “That’s not right,” she muttered. She escaped the gravity of the kotatsu and poked at the television. “Shirou, the tv’s broken!”

But Shirou didn’t respond, and Taiga woke up further, enough to remember that Shirou had gone out and broken his promise to fill her empty tummy. Making an angry face, Taiga grabbed for the phone and tried to call Mamako’s cellphone.

The phone was dead, too.

Taiga stared at the phone and then slowly hung it up. Then she hurried to the kitchen and started checking all the snack stashes.

Every single one of them was empty, even her super-secret one that only Shirou knew about.

“It was probably just that Saber,” Taiga told herself. But she couldn’t help wondering if instead she was in a nightmare. She slapped her face a couple times, remembering other strange dreams she’d had before.

She didn’t wake up, but that only convinced her she _was_ in a dream. It didn’t make sense. She didn’t care. It was just a dream.

Maybe if she could get the tv working again, she’d be able to find out more about the dream. She spent some time messing with the tv itself before deciding to check out the situation on the roof. After scrambling up there like a cat, she poked at the various bits and bobs up there like she knew what she was doing. The truth was, while she napped on the roof sometimes, she’d learned long ago to overlook all the extrusions up there. Why bother when Shirou was around?

Everything looked normal to her untrained gaze. Maybe that was the problem? Maybe that rod there should be bent a little?

“Hey there, lass,” said a male voice behind her. Taiga shrieked and spun around, thinking of Ayako and the other young women attacked recently. A man in blue leggings, red tattoos and not much else crouched behind her, looking up at her with amused curiosity. “Color me just as surprised. Ah, excuse me, I need to check something.”

He then drifted _through_ the roof, vanishing into the house below.

Because he was a ghost. She _knew _it. As soon as the tv and phone went dead, she’d known it, though she’d tried to pretend otherwise. This might be a dream, but it was the bad kind of dream, with ghosts and monsters and where she was all alone, with _ghosts._

She even heard the bell Kiritsugu had hung to warn of unwelcome spirits ringing. Not that she needed it. Taiga knew a ghost when she saw one, even if he was super hot and half naked.

Why was she on a roof when a ghost was around? That was stupid. She was going to end up the lead in a murderous ghost story. She was _doomed_. But she’d sure as hell go out fighting.

She edged to her safe route down, but when the ghost rose up through the roof again and said thoughtfully, “Hey, lass, mind if I ask you some questions—” she squealed and scrambled back to solid ground as fast as she could, bruises be damned.

Rolling to her feet, she dashed to the dojo and grabbed her shinai.

“Aw, come on, I’m trying to be nice,” called the ghost. It sounded like he was coming closer. Taiga looked down at the shinai in her hand. She felt better holding it, but she wasn’t entirely sure it was a good weapon for fighting ghosts who could walk through walls. Looking around, she noticed for the first time how the dojo didn’t really have another exit, either. Could she hide?

The ghost appeared in the dojo entrance. “Hey now. I’m not going to kill you. Given it’s _this_ house you probably wouldn’t stay dead if I tried, anyhow.” He smiled wryly, like he was making a joke.

“Go away,” said Taiga, her voice shaking. She really _hated_ ghosts. They had the worst senses of humor.

Instead he stepped inside the dojo and crouched down once again. “See? I don’t even have my spear.” He gave her a look of sympathy. “What happened to everybody else bunking at this house?”

“They’re out!” said Taiga defiantly. “You can’t eat them!”

“Ah,” said the ghost, and his look of sympathy intensified. “So they left you here all alone, went out tonight, and now they haven’t come back? You poor lass. They really left you up a creek.”

She lowered her shinai, peering at him in puzzlement as he thought. Then he said, “Was that woman Mamako with the orange-haired kid when he went out?”

“I don’t have to tell you!” quavered Taiga, raising the shinai again. “And when she gets back, she’ll make you regret ever becoming a ghost!”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered the ghost. “She wouldn’t be the first.” He frowned, looking at her for a long moment and mused, “I wonder what I ought to do with you? I’m not taking you to _him_, that’s for sure. That’d be worse than…”

He trailed off and then stood up. “Well, lass, if you hide inside this house, there’s a chance you’ll survive whatever’s coming. I’ll try to swing by to check on you now and then.” He gave her a little wave.

As he turned to leave the dojo, Taiga squeaked and ran after him. “Hey, wait! What are you doing?”

He glanced over his shoulder, quirking a smile. “Going away. It’s what you want, hey?”

“Nonono!” Taiga stomped a foot. “You can’t leave me alone here!”

“Can’t I?”

That was it. Taiga’s eyes flooded with tears. “Wh-wh-what if the next ghost to show up is a creepy old man? A hot ghost like you is much better company!”

The ghost in blue turned back toward her again, reconsidering. “What’s your name?” When she didn’t answer—the thought of giving a ghost her real name made her freeze up—he shrugged. “All right, fair enough.‘Kitten’ it is. You can call me Lancer, ‘k? You might as well come with me for now.”

Taiga’s eyes widened. “Where are you going? Back to the land of the dead? Because—”

“Kitten, we’re pretty much in the land of the dead right now. Y’can come and see, or you can hide here alone, but I’ve got work to do.”

“I’ll come!” said Taiga quickly. “I’ll definitely come.”

Lancer nodded. “Thought so.” Then he eyed her shinai. “Do you have a real sword?”

“I don’t _need_ a real sword, “ said Taiga proudly, swishing the shinai through some basic attacks.

“Yeah? Hit me a few times.”He crossed his arms.

She didn’t wait to be convinced. One thing she’d learned at her grandfather’s knee growing up was that if somebody worrying offered you a free shot, you _took it_, and you did your best to hit them a lot harder than expected. In a flash, she attacked Lancer. It wasn’t a sporting attack, either.

He neither dodged nor fought back, although he was very solid when she struck him on his shoulder, his torso, his hip. She didn’t pull her blows, either. A well swung shinai wouldn’t slice flesh, but it could leave deep bruises and even break bones.

But on Lancer’s bare shoulders, she didn’t even raise a welt. He weathered her blows until she finally fell back panting, no more marked than a steel post. She complained, “It’s because you’re a ghost, that’s all. If you were a real man, you’d be cowering right now.”

That made him smirk. “You’re half-right, at least. Here, gimme that and I’ll make it a little more effective against ghosts.”

Sullenly, she handed him the shinai and watched as he concentrated and slowly drew burning sigils along the blade with his finger. After a few minutes, he exhaled and handed it back to her. “Now, try again.”

Once again, he crossed his arms. Once again, she attacked him. This time when she struck his shoulder, she saw a red bruise flower. Encouraged, she swung at his ribs and then went for his thigh before he unfolded his arms, flowing forward to grab her by the wrist and wrench her around so her back was to his chest. With one hand still gripping her wrist, his other hand snaked around her waist.

She could escape this. She knew how to escape this! She was Raiga Fujimura’s granddaughter, dammit. But he was a ghost, and a hot one, and so Taiga’s breath caught in her throat instead.

“Half-right, kitten,” he murmured in her ear. “A ghost, but definitely also a real man.” Then, before the butterflies in her stomach had a chance to do more than flap, he released her and spun her to face him again. “There we go. The kitten now has claws. But if we meet any other ghosts, you’re probably better off running away.”

“Is that what you’d do?” she demanded.

He laughed. “No way.” Then he sobered suddenly, as if remembering something. “At least… well, I’d rather fight. But that Mamako…”

“I’ll run away if you do,” Taiga decided, at which point her stomach growled. “Uh… is there food in the land of the dead?”

“Yeah,” said Lancer, amused. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”

Taiga found a bounce in her steps as she walked down the dark street at Lancer’s side. The land of the dead looked pretty much like Fuyuki, which made her think once again that this was a dream. Not one of the normal ‘only inside her own head’ dreams, though, but the kind of dream where real things could happen. She’d had a few of those before, too.

However the main thing was that accepting that this was a dream of a Fuyuki-like land of the dead made her feel very cheerful. Maybe it was because she’d attached herself to somebody as powerful as Lancer, although she normally liked to think she was more independent-minded than that. But it seemed like it would be an insult to be terrified while at his side. And it was always wise to avoid insulting ghosts, right?

Right.

“So what are we doing? Besides finding me food. We’re finding me food, right? What kind of job do you do in the land of the dead? Are you a mage?”

“Hah! No!” He held out his hand and a red spear that radiated pure malevolence appeared. “I kill things, kitten.”

Taiga considered. “Living things or dead things? Things that need to die, or things that want to exist? Oh, and why?”

He ignored these questions, but that was okay, because Taiga suddenly thought of another one. “Am _I_ dead?” Her heart squeezed, imagining poor Shirou all alone with nobody but all those teenage girls for companionship.

“Nope,” said Lancer easily. “You talk way too much to be dead.”

Taiga beamed up at him. “Aren’t you a sweet-talker? I’ve figured out that this was all a dream, though.” She considered. “Maybe _I_ ate all the snacks and passed out and this is a near-death-experience.” Laughing, she added, “That’s a weird kind of ghost story! _It was you all along!_” She stopped suddenly and then shivered. “Right, never mind that.”

She walked along beside Lancer for a while, looking at the familiar buildings. Some had lights on, and some didn’t, but no silhouettes moved against the shades. The tall man walked with a swinging, easy pace that she had to hustle to keep up with, but unlike with Shirou, she didn’t feel like complaining would achieve desirable results.

“Here we go,” announced Lancer, and she realized they’d come to the corner store. It was _exactly_ like the corner store back in waking Fuyuki, except completely empty of customers and employees. But that didn’t stop Lancer from opening the door and gesturing her in.

“Snacks!” said Taiga happily as she went inside. The hot food display was even on, with some fried chicken and fries in the case. She was debating between that and ice cream to start when a tiny bit of the conscience she tried to instill in her students twinged at her. “Should we just take this stuff? Don’t convenience stores have staff in the land of the dead?”

“It’s your dream, isn’t it?” asked Lancer, grinning at her.

“True!” She decided on ice cream, because she knew Shirou would be making fried chicken for her when she eventually woke up.

After eating half a pint while standing in front of the freezer, she wandered along the aisles until she found Lancer at the adult magazine section. Judging from the opened wrappers, he’d looked through several of them while she’d been stuffing her face. As she approached, he showed her the one he was looking at. 

“Does that look like Mamako to you?”

Taiga squinted at the picture. If it had been any other situation, she might have at least pretended at maidenly delicacy. But she was both a high school teacher and the granddaughter of a yakuza boss; maiden she might be, but delicate she was not. “I… maybe? Who is that? Is that why you’re looking for her?”

“Naw,” said Lancer and stuffed the magazine back on the shelf. “My boss wants to see her. He probably wouldn’t appreciate the joke if I brought him that though. The other guy, though…” he trailed off before his distant gaze snapped back to Taiga. “What do you have there?”

“Chocolate chip ice cream, but I can’t eat anymore. You want it?”

“Sure. Are you done then?” He accepted the container from her and licked the spoon she’d been using.

She gave him an offended look. “This is a convenience store in my dreams and everything is free. I’ve barely begun.”

“If you stuff yourself so that you can’t walk, I’m leaving you here,” he warned.

After thinking about that, she wandered off, grabbing two bags of chips, a few meat sticks, and then stuffing some onigiri in her pocket. “All right, let’s go.”

He raised his eyebrow at her and then put yet another magazine back. “At least grab a shopping bag. How are you going to use that bundle of twigs otherwise?”

“Ooh, good idea.” Taiga went and found a canvas shopping bag, put in her supplies, added a few candy bars and then waved her shinai at Lancer. “Ready!”

As they went out the door, he said, “So where were Mamako and the kid going, do you know?”

But Taiga looked over her shoulder, distracted. The fried chicken in the case looked so lonely and abandoned. Yes, Shirou would be making her delicious food when she woke up, but who knew when that would be?

“Just a minute!” She ran back inside, packaged up all the fried chicken and the fries, and ran back out again, pushing the fries at Lancer. “You can have those. I won’t have room.” As he smirked at her, she added, “It’s like a video game, I bet. You might as well take the food when you find it, right?”

“I guess I’m glad they didn’t have a wheelbarrow.” He accepted the fries and ate one before making a face.

She ignored it. If he was a real man, he’d eat what he was given. “So what were you saying about Mamako and Shirou?” Eyeing him, she wondered if he disliked the fries because he preferred human flesh. But if that were the case, why hadn’t he eaten her?

This ghost stuff was way too complicated.

“They were just wandering around Fuyuki, I think. They don’t really tell me much about this magic thing they’ve got going on. Oooh, are we going to go find them?” Taiga bounced on her toes, the canvas bag on her shoulder bumping against her hip.

“Meh,” said Lancer after eating a few more fries. “I guess we should. But I’m not actually in a hurry or anything. Let’s look around some and see what’s going on now that everything’s gone to hell.”

As they walked along, Taiga speculated to Lancer on whether the sun would be rising in the land of the dead, what kind of boss Lancer had, if that red spear was also a ghost, if the manufacturers of the chips would give her a lifetime supply if she brought back proof of eating them in the land of the dead, and if it was possible to get tv that worked here. Lancer listened to her without giving her many answers, striding down the middle of empty streets, moving steadily toward the river.

After a while, Taiga fell silent, thinking quieter thoughts. Lancer glanced at here and said, “Still here, kitten? You’re not getting sick off that chicken, are you?”

“Hey, Lancer,” she asked seriously. “Is this _the_ land of the dead? Or just _a_ land of the dead?”

He stopped, cocking his head as he looked down at her. “Why do you ask?”

Taiga looked down, twisting her toes against the pavement. “Oh… just wondering if I might be able to find somebody I know who died, that’s all.”

Lancer hesitated before asking, “A lover?”

Pressing her free hand to a hot cheeks, Taiga shook her head furiously. “No, no. I’ve never… no. Shirou’s father. Kiritsugu. I go and visit his grave and tell him how Shirou’s doing sometimes, but I thought he might like a more direct report if I was in the neighborhood.”

“Huh,” said Lancer, and tipped her chin up with one finger until she met his crimson eyes. “Is that how you ended up tied down to a brat like that kid? Can’t say I think much of this Kiritsugu guy.”

Taiga pulled her head away from Lancer’s hand. “He was a good man. He saved Shirou and he taught me English and he never stopped trying to accomplish… something.” Her brow furrowed. “I think it killed him in the end.”

Lancer’s mouth twisted wryly before he started walking again. “Can’t exactly criticize that. Anyhow, I doubt he’s here, but hell if I know. I didn’t really expect to be in this situation myself—”

“Hello! Hello my beautiful listeners!” came a loud, feminine voice from somewhere nearby. “If you can hear me, come out! I have a wonderful surprise for you!”

Taiga’s eyes widened. “Who’s that?”

Shaking his head, Lancer said, “Not somebody I know. Yet. You come with me while I go see?”

With a grin, Taiga skipped ahead of him, calling, “I hear you!”

Lancer groaned behind her and caught up quickly. “I was thinking we’d be a little more subtle—”

“_She’s_ not,” said Taiga.

“Hello! Hello! Hello!” The voice rose in pitch with each repetition, until the final time made Taiga want to clap her hands to her ears. The owner rounded the corner: a young woman in a pink sweet lolita dress with a striped pink top hat over dark pink hair. A herd of tiny stuffed animal toys flowed around her, but she seemed heedless of them as she rushed toward Taiga.

“Oh my goodness, aren’t you _precious_?” demanded the sweet lolita girl.

Taiga looked down at herself. She was in her ordinary clothes, with her striped shirt and her jumper dress. If the word _precious_ applied to anyone, it was the girl in the cosplay outfit. “Who are you?”

“Me? I’m your fabulous entertainment for this apocalypse, the beautiful, talented… uh, Lancer.” She pouted. “That’s just my temporary stage name, you know.”

“Another Lancer, eh?” said Taiga’s blue Lancer from behind her. She heard the thrum of his red spear as he whirled it.

“The only _real_ Lancer, thank you very much!” said the pink Lancer, tossing her head. “What are you, some wannabe?”

“Pretty sure I was here first, missy. Kitten, you’re gonna want to step out of the way.”

But before Taiga could obey, the pink Lancer grabbed her by the arm. “No! She’s mine! I’m going to take her to my castle! _Look_ at how beautiful her skin is!” The pink Lancer dragged an ice-cold hand down Taiga’s cheek, and only then did she realize that the blue Lancer’s arms had been _warm_ when he’d briefly held her.

A matching chill ran down her spine.

“Um, thank you for the compliment, but I’m not interested in castles at this moment—” she gabbled.

The pink Lancer paid no attention. “You _are_ a virgin, right? It’s important you’re a virgin. I don’t know why that matters, but it does. Believe me, I’ve done experiments. If you’re not a virgin, all I can do with you is make a mess.”

Taiga flushed and tried to wrench herself away. The stuffed toys tumbled over each other and her feet. “None of your business!”

The blue Lancer snorted. “Her? Hardly.” The casual remark made Taiga turn so red she thought her head might explode. _What_ was he talking about? Was it because she hadn’t called him a pervert for looking at the adult magazines? But that wasn’t fair—

The pink Lancer released Taiga, her nose wrinkling. “You’re sure? She smells like… but I guess if it happened recently… well, I suppose you’d know.” She sighed before dismissing Taiga from her attention and immediately brightening up again. “But you, fake Lancer. I’m going to prepare a special concert just for you. Bring your Master too, okay? I’ll impress him so much he’ll give up fighting in this war!”

Taiga quietly stepped out of the pink Lancer’s reach as her blue Lancer moved forward and said, “And what war is this?”

The pink Lancer pointed a long polka-dot fingernail at something in the distance. Taiga turned, peering, and realized that a tower she’d never seen before loomed over Fuyuki near the river. It was very dark, a silhouette against a magenta-tinged sky.

“The war to defeat all of you fakers,” said the pink Lancer. “So that _my_ Master’s great ritual can complete.”

“What’s in the tower?” Taiga asked.

The pink Lancer rolled her eyes. “All of my Master’s new toys. Except for these, of course.” She kicked at some of the stuffed animals rolling around at her feet.

“Is that what happened to all the people in this city?” asked blue Lancer.

“Hmm?” said the pink Lancer, watching the toys fight at her feet. “What? Yes, I suppose so. It’s really too bad. They would have enjoyed hearing my concert more if they were still human. Hey, do you want a sample now?”

Taiga blinked. Then she thought about her dream thus far.

“Nah, I think we’ll pass,” said blue Lancer.

“Oh well. I’m going to go look for more audience members,” said pink Lancer, unfazed. “Don’t forget to be there for the show, fake Lancer and fake virgin!” She waved a hand and a spray of fliers appeared to flutter around them. Then she ran off down the street, once again caroling out an invitation to anybody who could hear her.

Taiga’s Lancer seemed like he was thinking of going after her, but Taiga grabbed his arm with her own iron grip. “Lancer, why are you looking for Mamako in _my_ dream?”

He glanced back at her and then ran a hand through his hair. “You got me, kitten. It’s not a dream.”

Taiga hauled him closer until she could shake him. “Do you mean all this is _real_? And _Shirou is in that tower?_”


	15. Day 7, Dawn - Mamako

A magenta haze tinted the dawn sky, spilling off the shimmering barrier that had enclosed Fuyuki. Even though the city should have been stirring to life, it remained comatose. The streets near Gilgamesh’s apartment were all but empty, save for the four figures just below his window.

Mamako stared as if hypnotized out the window as Illya jumped lightly off her Servant’s shoulder and flipped her platinum hair over her shoulder as she stepped to one side. Her face still glowed with excitement, as if she’d been longing to find the Servant at the other end of the block.

Gilgamesh’s grip on her arm loosened as he said, “Two Berserkers, one from the West and one from the East. This might actually be entertaining.” He tilted his head toward Mamako. “And somehow they’re here at my doorstep because of you. Hmm.”

Mamako had no idea what he was talking about, but she had more important things to worry about. She watched in concern as the sword-wielding woman and the giant man charged at each other. Right before it seemed like they would slam into each other, the woman flipped herself into the air, her sword flashing. In response, the giant’s fist thrust out, catching the woman by the leg.

He roared, slamming her toward the ground, but in a phenomenal feat of athletics, she curled up, bracing her free foot against his shoulder and slamming her sword through the wrist that held her. Blood spurted and they sprang apart.

Mamako’s gaze went to Illya, who was grinning fiercely as if her Servant’s injury meant nothing to her. Then she looked at the end of the block and saw Ayako in her hospital pajamas, on her hands and knees with her head down as if she was having trouble rising to her feet.

“Ayako!” said Mamako, and yanked herself free of Gilgamesh’s grip. She made it to the bedroom door before he caught her. His hand closed around her shoulder and spun her around, pressing her against the door as it clicked closed again.

Gilgamesh’s crimson eyes seemed to glow as he loomed over her. “What was it I said would happen if you disobeyed me and tried to leave…?”

He stroked a knuckle along the line of her jaw and down her throat, sending butterflies fluttering in Mamako’s stomach. Defiantly, she said, “Ayako needs help.”

Gilgamesh’s knuckle slid over her collarbone to the hollow of her throat and toward the valley of her cleavage. “The girl is safe enough. Worry about yourself, Mamako.”

“Me? I’m fine! I feel… I feel wonderful.” Mamako’s eyelashes fluttered closed as Gilgamesh’s finger unfolded and his fingertip touched between the swell of her breasts. That awful, shameful part of her wanted him to go on exploring. But it ran headlong into her protective instincts, and the vision of Ayako on her knees while monstrous warriors battled nearby. She took a deep breath, but kept her eyes closed lest his own confuse her.

“Hero-sama, this—”

Very softly, he said, “And why is it you’re fine?”

Her eyes flew open as a wave of consternation crashed over everything else. She felt fine because Gilgamesh had rescued her and healed her. Without his kindness, who knew what state she’d be in now?

She stared up into his angular face, trying and failing to sort out the tangled knot of her duty from her desires. Gilgamesh looked—and often acted—like such a _young_ man. A young man accustomed to far more power than any young man should have. From what he’d said, he’d grown up with it. Somewhere, somewhen.

And yet occasionally, as when he’d spoken to her from his chair in the corner, he seemed so much older than her it frightened her. He’d spoken of being a king, and while she’d never exactly doubted him, she now understood just what kind of king he’d been. Not a kindly, gentle king who walked among his people; not an earnest, enthusiastic king as her son was learning to be. King Gilgamesh must have been terrifying; all-powerful; feared and adored.

Another roar from the giant shook the building, and Mamako’s heart leapt into her throat. She made an instinctive effort to jerk away from Gilgamesh that he easily thwarted.

“No, Mamako,” he whispered, his breath brushing against her cheek before his mouth covered hers: first with a light brush of his lips until his tongue slipped within.

This wasn’t the brief, hard kiss he’d given her in the chocolate shop. That had been over before she’d been able to process what was going on, and she’d mostly done a very good job of forgetting it since then. This time, his mouth moved against hers almost tenderly, languidly, making sure she had time to feel every movement of his lips and stroke of his tongue.

And, oh God, it’d been _forever_ since she’d been kissed like that. It’d been nearly as long since anybody she’d been attracted to had touched her as he did now. His hand moved over her bodice to stroke her breast, and a shiver of pleasure ran all the way down to her toes. It made it so hard for her to think, to remember—

His mouth left hers, travelled to her ear where he whispered, “All you have to do to stay safe is obey me. It’s easy enough for even a mongrel to do.”

“Safe,” murmured Mamako, shaking her head blindly. _Safe. _But she’d learned something on her adventures with Ma-kun. What had it been? Oh yes… She’d learned that _safe_ wasn’t always the important thing. Sometimes when you tried to keep safe those you loved, you took away their ability to fly.

She frowned as Gilgamesh kissed her neck. Then she opened her mouth to explain that _Oh, this is nice, but I really must get going, that girl needs help, please, where are my shoes?_ and stopped as another voice, a creaky, knowing voice said, _Running away, are we?_

“I… I need to check on… Hero-sama, why do you think she’s safe?”

“It would be useless. They want her alive,” he murmured, nibbling her collarbone as his thumb circled the peak on her breast through her dress. “They want you dead.”

Mamako stiffened, her hands coming up to press against his chest. “Me? What nonsense, they don’t even know me. Except Miss Illya, and she’s a sweet girl.”

Gilgamesh lifted his head to look at her with glinting eyes, leaving his hand where it was. “A sweet girl who would slaughter every other Master in this War.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Mamako stubbornly. “You said something… what was it? About pieces of straw? You meant everything was confused right now.”

He looked down at her in silence, an unsettling look in his eyes. Once again, she felt that sense that he was so much older than her, which sharply contrasted with the distracting movement of his thumb against her nipple.

She knocked her wrist against his fretfully and then slid her fingers through his. He allowed this but his thumb kept moving, stroking her hand as she asked, “Why… why are you doing this? I thought you wanted my swords at first, and then that you were… playing with me.”

Gilgamesh’s gaze darkened as his brows lowered. “Who is playing with whom?” he demanded.

A dreadful remorse swept over Mamako as she realized that he was right; that she had been wickedly tempting him, _enticing_ him. Her eyes dropped and she tried to pull herself away from him. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been a little crazy without my son. I… I forget who I am so easily around you.”

“Not easily enough,” he said harshly, retaining his grip on her hand no matter how she shook it. “Fool, you didn’t—” He ground his teeth and then he was crowding her against the door, pressing himself against her as he forced her chin up and kissed her once more.

This time, it was a kiss of conquest, not a kiss of pleasure, with his hands moving everywhere and his mouth rough against her own. She felt like he was telling her something, and she tried to understand, she really did. But all she could think of was her own guilt and shame, and her awareness that a man like him didn’t embrace a woman like herself without a reason.

And the worst part was, she _didn’t care_. She wanted his embrace even if she’d regret it later. She wanted to be wicked, to seduce him, to pull him from his throne down to the floor with her.

But… not right now. Not with Ayako so lost below.

For a moment, she pressed herself onto her toes, kissing Gilgamesh back—but only for a moment. Then, very firmly, she pushed him away. “I need to go check on Ayako for myself. Please give me my shoes. I don’t care if it isn’t safe. I need to do it.”

“Ah,” he said softly, still holding her, but loosely. “There you are.” His voice was oddly measured, as if he’d expected this. “Once again, you rebel against the King.”

She gave him a little smile. “You are a King, it’s true. But Hero-sama—Gilgamesh—I think right now I may be the only mother this… this singularity… has left.” She hesitated over the unfamiliar word.

Gilgamesh gave a stifled groan as he released her. “Not the only one.” He glanced toward the window. “Definitely not the only one.” When he looked back down at her, he had the same hard stare he’d had earlier when he’d first talked about his pieces of straw, as if once again he was working challenging calculations in his head. “But maybe that’s why you’re here.”

“I’m sure it is!” said Mamako cheerily, buoyant with relief that he’d listened to her. She felt behind her and managed to slip the door of the bedroom open as she turned. Beyond was a living area furnished in much the same way, with her shoes next to the door. Lightly, she ran over and slipped them on.

Gilgamesh followed her. As she went to open the outer door, he commanded, “Mamako, come here first.” When she hesitated, looking over her shoulder at him, he added, “Mongrel, I have already decided to let you see for yourself how unnecessary your assistance is. Approach me so that I can adorn you appropriately.”

“Oh, am I a mongrel now too?” she asked innocently, unable to resist returning to him.

He snapped his fingers and a length of red ribbon fell into his hand from a flash of light. Then he wrapped the cool satin around her arm and tied it. “You are either a mongrel or a weapon of the gods. I haven’t decided which yet. In either case, you need a leash.” He tightened the bow. “Next time you consider sacrificing yourself for some ill-favored children, toss the ribbon into the wind, and it will find me.”

“Why would you help me again?” Mamako asked, feeling shy as she ran her fingers over the ribbon. “After… after my games?”

He gave her a cold, stern look. “You are mine. You are also a mongrel and a fool, and you flatter yourself beyond reason if you think that your so-called games have had any influence over me. If I embrace you, it is for my own reasons. Now begone. I’m sure somewhere a child needs their nose wiped.”

Mamako gave him another happy smile and took his advice, running through the door and down the stairs. Perhaps the elevator would have been faster, but a lifetime of training made her hesitant to use such conveyances in what felt like a crisis.

She emerged, panting and with a stitch in her side, into a shining glass lobby with nobody present, but caught Gilgamesh’s cedar scent as she ran to the front doors. As she stepped outside, she took in the cracked pavement and downed street lights that two clashing Servants had left. The giant knelt down as if frozen but then jolted to his feet as the Eastern Berserker swore at him in an old dialect.

Gilgamesh, in golden armor, stood in the air over both Berserkers, his hands on his hips. “You fools, how dare you disturb my pleasures with your noise?” A half-dozen portals opened around him.

Illya jumped up and down, her face twisting in rage. “Get up, Berserker! Grab that gold bird and smash him flat!”

Mamako looked the other way and saw Ayako halfway down the block. She’d made it to her feet, but she was hanging onto another street light as if the earth moved beneath her.

Gilgamesh’s voice boomed again as Mamako ran over to Ayako, insulting the Berserkers further. Then there was the hiss of his blades flying, and cries from the other Servants.

Mamako winced, but clearly they were extremely tough. Gilgamesh was doing what he had to do to allow her to reach Ayako safely. She couldn’t complain about that.

Instead she caught Ayako around the waist as the teenager swayed. The girl blinked at her, recoiling. Her brown eyes were odd, as if bands of raw power crackled through them. Then she relaxed a little.

“Who… who are you?” she said hoarsely. “What’s going on?”

“I’m Mamako. A friend of Rin,” said Mamako. “And you’re Ayako. Things are pretty scary right now, but it’ll be okay! Let’s get you away from those guys.”

“I woke up in the hospital and everyone was gone,” said Ayako quietly, letting Mamako steer her down the street. “I don’t even know why I was there. But my vision is so strange now.”

“Oh? How so?” asked Mamako, mostly to keep her talking as Mamako decided what to do next. She wanted to get Ayako back to Shirou and Rin, where she would definitely be safe. Ordinarily, she’d use a taxi. But the taxis didn’t seem to be running at the moment. She wasn’t even quite sure how to get back to Shirou’s by walking.

Perhaps Gilgamesh foresaw this and that was why he had declared her intention useless. But he’d been wrong, too. Poor Ayako did need help.

“There are… lines everywhere,” said Ayako. “Lines around everything.” She stared down at a lump of road rubble that had been flung by the giant Western Berserker at some point previously. “It feels like… if I concentrate… the lines change.” Her eyes narrowed.

The jagged piece of rubble slid across the ground, hopped like it was trying to fly, and then spun in a circle. Then Ayako blinked and the rubble stopped moving abruptly. Steam rose from glistening tar and there came a slow groan.

“Oh my goodness,” said Mamako. “Did you do that? How… marvelous!” She guided Ayako around the rubble and kept her moving. “You just never know what’s going to happen these days.”

“Am I a monster?” asked Ayako. “I… dreamt of monsters, before I woke up in the hospital.”

“No, no, no,” said Mamako firmly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Ayako pulled against Mamako’s hand, her mouth tightening. “I _want_ to worry about it. If I might hurt people, I need to know.”

Mamako loosened her supportive grip as she said reasonably, “Even without magic eyes, you can hurt people. That doesn’t make you a monster. But my goodness, Ayako, let’s find somewhere safe and get you properly dressed. You must be freezing!”

“Oh,” said Ayako, and looked down at herself, her cheeks turning pink. “Yes, I’m cold.”

There was a shopping district across the street, and Mamako helped Ayako there. The stores were all closed, of course, as the magenta storm that had swallowed Fuyuki had come late at night and nobody had since come to open them.

“Hmm,” said Mamako, tapping her fingers on the glass front of a boutique. “I wish my swords weren’t at home. I didn’t think I’d be able to use them so soon!”

Ayako shivered. “You’d break in?”

“Dear, you’re so cold and I have nothing I can give you of my own. I promise I’ll repay them later, all right?” She pouted and pounded on the glass with her fist. “I wonder if I can call Tsuchiko from here… I’ve never tried!”

“Ma’am… uh… the glass has those lines too. Maybe if you come over here? Stand behind me…”

Mamako’s eyes widened, and then she hurried to Ayako’s side. Once again the girl’s eyes narrowed. The air seemed to sizzle and then once again something groaned. This time the groan rose to a crystalline pitch before the window exploded into tiny fragments that fell like dust onto the pavement.

Ayako shuddered harder and crouched down. “That was… that was hard. I think that’s good. I didn’t want you to get cut by the shards, ma’am.”

Mamako patted her hair and then darted across the sparkling pavement, very glad she’d reclaimed her shoes. Within the boutique, she gathered up an armful of clothing, snagged a card with the shop’s name from the counter, and returned to Ayako.

“Let’s get you into something warm, and then we’ll figure out how to get to Shirou’s house, all right? I bet you know how to get to the river better than I do!”

“Shirou’s house…? Do you know him, too? Is he… Is he in this nightmare?” Ayako let Mamako help her out of the hospital gown in the middle of the empty street.

Mamako handed her a camisole and some shorts to serve as underwear-in-a-hurry. “He’s perfectly safe, along with Sakura! I saw to that. We’ll go there and everything will be cozy while we figure out what happened.”

“Is… Is Rin here too?” Ayako asked, pulling the shorts on.

As if in answer, Rin’s raised voice hollered, “TURN YOUR BACK RIGHT NOW, ARCHER!”

Mamako looked up. At the far end of the shopping street, Rin raced toward them, with Archer strolling backward behind her, his hands clasped behind his head.

“AYAKO!” called Rin, as Ayako quickly pulled the camisole on and then scrambled into the rest of the clothing—shirt, sweater, a longish skirt—as fast as Mamako thrust them at her.

Rin slowed as she approached them, until by the time she came within speaking distance, she walked at a sedate, elegant pace. “Ayako,” she said in a calm voice belied by the way her eyes frantically scanned her friend for injuries. “I’m _so_—I’m glad to see you’re well.”

Ayako squinted down at Archer, who was still a ways down the street. “You didn’t get a boyfriend before me, did you?”

Rin’s illusion of poise vanished as she huffed, “No I did not!”

“So… he’s not your boyfriend?” queried Ayako thoughtfully.

“No!” Fuming, Rin turned to Mamako. “How did you find her? Have you seen Taiga? Shirou is _worried sick_ about you both, so Archer and I had to come out looking as soon as the sun rose!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, wonderful patient readers!
> 
> First: This is a week later than it was meant to be, because I spent too much of the last week with my nose pressed to the window on current events (and for posterity's sake I explain this means the coronavirus pandemic unfolding). But now I am housebound for weeks and I fully intend to spend it writing amusing distractions for people in need of them.
> 
> To that end:  
I am on [Twitter! ](https://twitter.com/chrysoula)(username: chrysoula) Feel free to follow me and talk to me about Fate or fanfiction or whatever. I find I'm craving that kind of thing already. It's impressive how social distancing can make even an introvert like me want to reach out! I'm also thinking of reactivating a long disused Tumblr account...? Hm...
> 
> Anyhow, I love hearing from readers, even if it's incoherent, and reader thoughts can really inspire and motivate me.
> 
> Second: Ah, Gilgamesh and Mamako. He is not good (but he’s learning to see beyond himself again) and she has absorbed a lot of toxic cultural ideas about herself. With any luck they’ll both keep growing through the story.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	16. Day 7, Morning - Mamako

The morning sunlight fell softly on the desolate street like peach down as it slipped through the magenta-rimmed scattered clouds. Mamako’s shadow stretched long before her, just touching Ayako as she and Rin walked ahead of Mamako and Archer.

The two girls were having an odd sort of conversation, punctuated by long, crowded silences.

“Rin, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but something strange is going on.”

A pause, and then Rin said, “I haven’t suddenly become an idiot.”

“I mean, you’ve got this Archer guy following you around doing what you say, but he’s not your boyfriend? Very strange.”

Rin huffed and Ayako chuckled. Then Rin said, “Just because you don’t understand something doesn’t mean it’s strange, Mitsuzuri. There’s a whole world out there you don’t know anything about.”

Another pause and Ayako said, “True. That tower, for example.”

They were approaching the big red bridge that crossed the river bisecting Ryuki. North of the bridge, rising from the river itself, was an impossibly tall black tower, glittering with tiny lights. It looked like a perfect cylinder and the deep blackness of its surface seemed to suck at the eyes.

“This is all wrong,” complained Rin. “I don’t want to have to erase your memory, dammit. But you don’t belong in the Moonlit World.” She glared at the tower as if it was a personal offense.

“Is this the Moonlit World?”

“No! This isn’t normal! This wasn’t supposed to happen! You’re supposed to be getting Archery Club started, not—”

“Rin, I can make things explode with my mind now. I’m pretty sure that’s not normal either.”

Another pause. The two girls leaned on the bridge railing looking at the big tower, and Mamako and Archer paused as well.

“Can you make _that_ explode with your mind?” Rin asked, nodding at the tower.

Ayako squinted, and then shook her head. “Too big. Too far away.”

Rin nodded glumly. “Of course not. That would be too easy.” She sighed and started walking again. “Come on, let’s get you someplace safe.”

Mamako lingered a moment, watching the girls as they walked on ahead. Archer stayed beside her, as if he expected her to get lost if he didn’t keep an eye on her. After a moment, Mamako smiled up at him. “It was very kind of you to want to protect me last night. That’s why you wanted me to come with you and Rin, right?”

Archer’s mouth tightened and he also glared at the tall black tower. “Rin is very fond of you for some reason.”

“She’s a good girl,” said Mamako placidly, but there was a hard glint in her eyes. “But she didn’t want me to come along.” She started to stroll along, just slow enough that she stayed out of earshot of the two teenage girls. “You knew you had some way of protecting her from that storm. If I’d come with you, you would have protected me too, right?”

“Of course,” said Archer irritably.

“Would you have protected Shirou in the same situation?” Mamako’s question, sweetly voiced, seemed to hit Archer like a knife.

He winced and then said sourly, “I doubt I would have had a choice in the matter. Rin is also regrettably attached to _him_. That troublesome girl…”

Mamako gave him a sidelong, thoughtful look. Then she reached up and patted him on the shoulder. “Keep working on making her happy instead of punishing that poor boy, and I think you’ll be just fine.”

Archer grumbled, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” But when Mamako just smiled at him, he subsided, stalking along beside her in silence all the way to the Emiya residence.

When Rin burst into the Emiya residence calling, “We’re home! I found Mamako, at least!” it was Sakura who greeted them, her hands clutching her apron and concern in her tired eyes.

“No sign of Fujimura-sensei?” Her eyes went to Ayako, stuffing her feet into a pair of house slippers, and widened. “Mitsuzuri-senpai! You’re here?”

“Apparently,” said Ayako cheerfully. “And so is Fujimura-sensei? That makes me wonder about the rest of the Archery Club.”

“Um,” said Sakura in a small voice. “We thought she would be. But she’s not.”

“Oh no!” said Mamako. “Are you _sure_? I know I spoke with her before we—” She stopped, shaking her head.

Ayako’s cheer abruptly faded and soberly she moved aside to let Mamako hurry past.

Mamako came to the entrance of the living room and found Shirou kneeling before the table. Several beautifully laid out plates of snacks waited to be devoured, and he stared at them blankly. Only when Mamako said, “Shirou-kun?” did he look up and give her a shadow of a smile.

“Mamako. I’m glad you’re safe. You didn’t happen to see Fuji-nee on your way here? I was up all night cooking for her.” He sighed. “Sakura said we ought to refrigerate most of it so it wouldn’t go bad.” He paused, and then said, “I keep thinking about all the food in all those empty houses, though.”

Mamako, who hadn’t thought about the empty houses at all except to notice they existed, felt a twinge of guilt. She’d been so focused on the people around her that she hadn’t considered all those she didn’t know.

Well, there would be time to worry about them later. Right now, she was needed here. She gave Shirou an assessing look. Then, very firmly, she said, “Have you bathed, Shirou-kun?”

He blinked at her. “Sakura did. She said… but that was… hours ago.”

Mamako shook her head, tsking at herself for leaving these children alone for so long. “Go take a bath. After that, you must try to sleep if you can, yes, even if the sun is high. You’ll be no help to anyone like this.”

Her tone of voice jolted Shirou to his feet. “Yes, ma’am.” A look of embarrassment crossed his face. “I should have…”

“None of that, now,” Mamako told him gently. “Go take a nice hot bath. Everything will make more sense after that.”

He nodded, and brushed past her into the corridor. Mamako followed him to the closet where she’d stored her swords and reclaimed them, twisting her miraculously healed hands to send the two magical blades to their ‘rooms’ in a pocket dimension. Umiko began to chastise her enthusiastically for leaving them behind, but as Mamako turned and found Sakura looking at her solemnly, she shushed the water blade.

“Is there any tea, dear?” asked Mamako.

Sakura nodded, and together they returned to the living room where Sakura fetched a tea tray she’d clearly had at the ready. As she prepared the drink, Mamako studied her. She was pale and quiet, but clearly far more _present_ than Shirou had been. She smelled of soap, and Mamako recalled that she’d just finished bathing at her own home before they’d rescued her.

Rescued her, but from what? Mamako didn’t dare assume she knew what Sakura had been through. All she knew for certain was that her brother was an insecure, spoilt brat and the grandfather was… not human. Mamako had sensed the bugs under his skin and felt the wash of magic he’d flung at her. But for Sakura and Shirou, she’d resisted it.

The old man had simply laughed at her babbling bravado, a sound like the creaking of a coffin, and waved his hand at her dismissively before commanding his grandson to come inside. Mamako wondered now if he’d expected his granddaughter to be swallowed by the magenta storm all the magic people had seemed to know was coming.

Sakura set a cup of tea in front of Mamako and she wrapped suddenly cold fingers around the warm ceramic. “Thank you, Sakura.”

Nodding, Sakura took her own cup. “Senpai listened when you asked him to take a bath.” Her voice was so neutral that Mamako could _taste_ the bitterness as she sipped her tea.

“I didn’t ask him, I _told_ him,” Mamako pointed out. “I know he doesn’t mean to ignore you, dear.” She thought carefully as Sakura lowered her gaze to her tea, remembering Ma-kun and the girls she’d adopted as prospective daughters-in-law. Shirou and Sakura were children in some ways, but, as Ma-kun had been on their Adventure, also verging on adulthood in others.

Slowly Mamako said, “But _telling_ him wouldn’t work for you. You don’t want to be his mother.” She concentrated on her own tea. “If I may, I suggest next time you want to take his mind off something, make sure his focus is on you instead. Don’t ask him. _Invite_ him.”Her cheeks warmed as she found herself thinking of Gilgamesh.

“Ma’am?” said Sakura, clearly startled.

Mamako raised her gaze. “In whatever way you wish, dear. He wants to be with you. When he thought you were in danger…” She shook her head. “Nothing could have stopped him from getting to you.”

“He worries like that about everybody,” said Sakura, and conflict was clear in her voice now.

“No, I don’t think he does.” Mamako tilted her head. “Sakura, are you at all worried about your own family?”

Sakura’s eyes changed as a mask settled into place, and Mamako leaned over and tapped her lightly on the forehead. “ No, no, be honest. I won’t be sending you back to them no matter what you say.”

For a moment, a terrified child looked at Mamako out of Sakura’s eyes, so vivid and _present_ that Mamako almost knocked over her tea cup as she scrambled around the table. But by the time she was close enough to hug Sakura, the child had vanished and Sakura’s reserve had returned. Mamako clenched her fists on her knees instead.

In a flat, controlled voice, Sakura said, “I’m not worried that they were taken, no.”

“Hmm. Are you worried about Taiga?”

Sakura opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her eyes flickered and then lowered. “I… I should be, I know. But I’m just… _annoyed_, ma’am. And afraid.”

“But not for Taiga?”

Mutely, Sakura shook her head. Mamako hesitated and then very lightly placed her hands on Sakura’s shoulders. She leaned her head against Sakura’s, holding her loosely like that for a moment. “It’s all right, Sakura-chan. We’ll figure it out, all right? You’re going to be okay. And so will everybody you care about.”

Sakura’s stiff body slowly loosened until she was leaning against Mamako. They sat like that for a moment. Then she looked up. “Do you mind if I do the dishes, ma’am? I know I said you could do them, but… I’d feel better if I could do something useful right now.”

Mamako said, “Of course, dear.” She rose to her feet. “Did Saber go out?”

Sakura shook her head. “She’s in the dojo.”

With a bow of thanks, Mamako left Sakura to her self-assigned chore and made her way outside the house again. As she passed through the hall, she could hear Rin and Ayako still bickering amicably in the room Rin had claimed for herself, and the slosh of water from the bathroom.

Outside, the peach sunlight had brightened without losing any of its unusual tint. It looked like a beautiful day in early spring, although the chill bite of the air showed the reality of February. Birds sang, more noticeable than usual because of the lack of road traffic. But no dogs barked, Mamako noticed. They’d apparently all vanished, too.

Inside the dojo, Saber knelt meditating, wearing her street clothes. She opened her eyes as soon as Mamako slid the door open, and smiled. “I heard your return, madam, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you with welcome. I’m glad that golden Archer saw fit to release you.”

Mamako’s gaze went to the red ribbon Gilgamesh had wrapped around her arm. “I don’t believe he had much choice, dear. He was very helpful in letting me rescue Ayako, though.” Thoughtfully she added, “Again.”

An incredulous look flitted over Saber’s face before she composed herself. “I am… intrigued to hear that, madam. Who did you rescue Ayako from?”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Mamako. “That child Illya brought a giant of a man to battle a swordswoman of about my age but, ah, much taller and better proportioned. Gilgamesh said they were both Berserkers, one from the East and one from the West. I wondered if you knew of them?”

“Two Berserkers,” breathed Saber, her eyes widening. “The giant… is probably who I fought before. But a woman—” Her brow wrinkled. “This is no proper Grail War now. I wonder…” She surged to her feet. “I was certain that Taiga had left the house of her own free will; that Rin and Archer would find her wandering the streets. Now I fear I’ve made a terrible mistake. She would have had no defense against an enemy Servant.”

Mamako’s brow furrowed. “Oh no. But what can we do?”

Saber paced in a tight little circle. “The Grail still exists. Perhaps even… but that doesn’t matter. A Grail certainly still exists. I think all we _can_ do is defeat the other Servants, no matter how many there may be. I would like to have a council of war with Rin, though.”

“A council of war! Oh my!” Mamako tilted her head. “But I think we have to wait until after the young people have had a nap.”

Saber stared at her for a moment before her shoulder slumped. “You are correct. Each of them has been up all night. Sleep will clear their heads. I will… wait patiently until then. But please, do not tell Shirou of my fears until then?”

“Of course not,” said Mamako reassuringly, and then added, “Perhaps you need a nap too, Saber? I had one at Gilgamesh’s and I feel so much better!”

***

_Elsewhere._

Taiga pounded on Lancer’s back with her fists. He’d taken her shinai from her when he’d slung her over her shoulder, which meant her assault was more like hitting an oak tree than a man. “Put me down! This is not how you should be carrying me! I am a teacher! And a—-aieeee!” She squeezed her eyes shut when the ground fell away in another of Lancer’s dizzying, impossible leaps.

He was moving from roof to roof in what he clearly considered the most convenient way possible. He hadn’t even asked her before scooping her up.

“Sheesh, take it easy, Kitten. This is the quickest way to get a good look at that tower, just like you wanted.”

She pounded on his back again, keeping her eyes closed. “You. Could. Carry. Me. Properly!”

He laughed and leapt again, his fingers tightening over her thigh. Half his hand kept the skirt of her jumper dress pressed down, which might have meant something if she wasn’t painfully aware of his thumb on the bare skin of her inner thigh.

Taiga growled under her breath, cursing the utter indignity of the situation. She couldn’t help struggling every time he landed. But each time he jumped, she thought, _Shirou and my students may be in that tower!!_ and clung a little harder to his back. As soon as she had her enchanted shinai back, things would be different. For now… all she could do was hang on for dear life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I've started a Discord for readers of my work to meet up and chat with me and each other. If this interests you, here is the invite code. <https://discord.gg/qey3vdW>. Looking forward to meeting you!


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